


Rosary

by thewriterofperfectdisasters



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate universe - Vietnam War, Canon Typical Homophobic Language, Fluff, M/M, Minor Character Death, Shameless Big Bang, blood tw, mentions of bipolar disorder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-04
Updated: 2014-10-23
Packaged: 2018-02-17 15:40:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 21
Words: 42,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2314745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thewriterofperfectdisasters/pseuds/thewriterofperfectdisasters
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As the war in Vietnam heightens, Ian and Mickey find themselves enrolled in the U.S Army - one considerably less pleased to be there than the other. During basic training, they become friends, and quickly realise that if they want to make it out alive, they need someone to watch their back. Together, they will face many obstacles, both in country, and on the home front, but ultimately, will they survive?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. War

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, a slightly huge note to start off with.
> 
> First, a huge thank you to my beautiful betas, [Amanda](http://teamwinchesterbros.tumblr.com/) and [Teresa](http://lggymilkovich.tumblr.com/), because they put up with a lot of strange emails from me, as did my absolutely _amazing_ artist, [Emma](http://mickeyslegs.tumblr.com/), and you can find her art [here](http://mickeyslegs.tumblr.com/post/99100496871/fold-my-arms-across-my-chest-tell-my-girl-i-done).
> 
> I'm going to be posting a chapter of this per day until they're all done so I don't overwhelm you (pfft), and adding additional tags as I update, because spoilers aren't fun, let's face it. If, during the course of the fic, there are any terms you don't understand or know the meaning of (and are too lazy to look up - like me, tbh) then feel free to ask, and I'll add it in a note for anyone else c: I did a lot of research for this, and [this book](http://www.bookdepository.com/Vietnam-Zippos-Sherry-Buchanan/9780500286975) was kind of both the inspiration behind this fic, as well as acting kind of as my go to for the past three-ish months.
> 
> Anyhoo, I hope you all enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it.

The war in Vietnam was not a pretty one. Then again, wars never were.

On August 7, 1964, after the attack on a United States destroyer, the _USS Maddox_ , the United States Congress passed the Tonkin Gulf Resolution, granting President Lyndon Johnson the power to take all necessary measures to repel and prevent further attack on American forces stationed in Vietnam. The resolution was the green light for President Johnson to increase American involvement in Vietnam, and the wording of it allowed him to increase this involvement however he wanted to.

March of 1965 signalled the beginning of a continuous bombing programme on Vietnam, called “Operation Rolling Thunder”, as well as the arrival of the first United States Marines in South Vietnam. By December of the same year, over 200,000 troops were stationed in South Vietnam.

During the war, the American tactics were based on “search and destroy” missions, colloquially known as a raid or “Zippo mission”, defoliation, and constant bombing to disrupt the flow of supplies to the south. In retaliation, the North Vietnamese forces employed small-scale guerrilla attacks and ambushes, and extensive use of booby traps.

By the end of 1967, nearly half a million American troops were in Vietnam. That number peaked in 1968 at 537,377 troops.

 

* * *

 

Mickey Milkovich was not fond of war.

Contrary to his upbringing, he didn’t like violence for the sake of violence. He was more “violence for the sake of protection”, whether that protection was for himself or his family – especially his sister, Mandy. She was always the object of attention when their father had his friends over to consume copious amounts of alcohol, and Mickey had more than once harboured her in his room until they had all left.

Mickey’s father... Well. He was a violent man. Terry Milkovich had served in the army in the Second World War, and married later in life. He had managed to produce a veritable menagerie of sons, with Mandy being the lone daughter, and he expected them to uphold the Milkovich tradition by being actively involved in war.

Mickey’s brothers had no problems with this – they weren’t exactly patriotic, and sort of operated on a “fuck the system” life motto, but if they had the opportunity to shoot at things, they weren’t the sort to pass it up. In fact, Joey and Iggy were currently both in Vietnam, though Mickey hadn’t heard from them for a few months.

Terry expected Mickey to enlist, and of course, that meant Mickey would. He hated the idea of potentially flying off to his death, but he wasn’t facing better prospects at home if he refused. Mickey was just worried for Mandy. He could handle himself, but he didn’t like the idea of Mandy being left alone in the Milkovich house with their abusive, alcoholic father.

Their mother had left a few years ago to go to San Francisco and join the whole “peace and love” movement. She had insisted to her young children that she was leaving to follow her dreams and beliefs, but as Mickey grew older, he realised that the bruises that had bloomed across her skin like flowers, thanks to the heavy handedness of Terry, was probably a contributing factor to his mother leaving. That, and the fact that she could dabble in drugs without fear of her children getting into her supply, and risk passing the habit on to them.

Terry Milkovich hated the peace movement, and called them a waste of space. He always bad-mouthed his wife, and had tried to drastically change the way his children thought about their mother, but Mickey had never fallen for it.

Maybe his mother was where he got his pacifist edge from. He certainly got his fight and fire from his father.

In any case, Mickey had no desire whatsoever to join the army and go to war, because it wasn’t his fight. He knew that wouldn’t matter, because if Terry Milkovich wanted his sons to go to war, then his sons would go to war, and Mickey would be no exception to the rule.

 

* * *

 

Ian Gallagher would call himself a patriot.

He was excited to be turning eighteen soon, so he could sign up for the army and get sent off to fight as part of the war in Vietnam. It wasn’t that he was a bloodthirsty psychopath or anything, he was just happy that he could do something to make a difference and be able to defend his country.

Ian wanted to represent his family in the war, because he was the only person in his family eligible for it. Ian’s older brother, Lip, was at college, making him unable to be part of the military for the moment, but there was no way in hell he would enlist willingly, anyway.

Unlike his brother, Ian was planning on signing up, and that he would straight away be of use to his country was an exciting prospect to him. Ian knew his family was less than pleased about the whole situation. They would’ve preferred he go join Lip at college, or Frank in Canada, than risk his ass in the middle of a mangrove swamp, but they knew he wouldn’t. Ian didn’t want to be grouped with Frank as a quitter.

Ah, Frank. The weak and cowardly man, who you could paint with a glass of beer in his hand, had run away to Canada at the first mention of American intervention in Vietnam. He had originally attempted to get a deferment from the war by saying he provided for his family, and when that didn’t work out, he tried to get one for physical problems. That didn’t come through either, so off to Canada he went.

Ian and his siblings only heard from Frank when he wanted more money, and though that used to be once every couple of weeks, they had received no word from Frank for months. He had probably found some unknowing woman to scam money out of.

Ian’s mother, Monica, however, had run off years ago. She had been diagnosed with manic depressive illness, and initially, had been hospitalised. After her release, she had left her entire family – Frank included – and jumped in a beat up Kombi van with a bunch of strangers, heading west. No one had heard from her since, and Ian and his siblings couldn’t help but think they were better off without her. Or Frank. They were definitely better off without _him._

The whole idea of dodging military service and the war left somewhat of a bad taste in Ian’s mouth, because although he understood why people would jump ship to Canada and the like, he thought it was kind of pointless.

However, Ian had always been a brave person. He had been involved in the ROTC program at school, and he knew what to expect from the army. Ian thought they were just being weak by not accepting their fate.

But then again, maybe Ian was being naïve.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [come see me on tumblr](http://im-not-his-keeper.tumblr.com/)


	2. Enlistment

It was the summer of 1968.

Ian Gallagher was eighteen and he had just graduated from high school. He had made his plans clear to his family that he was going to enlist as soon as he could.

His oldest sister, Fiona, wasn’t exactly a supporter of this. She was opposed to the war in Vietnam, though not to the extent of others. She didn’t protest, because she had a house to run, but she made her opinion clear to her siblings that she thought it was a mistake to have so many troops involved in a war on the off chance that what they were fighting against might affect their country.

Ian’s older brother, Lip, was also opposed to the war. He told Ian that by enlisting willingly, he was making a huge mistake, and that he should just go to college instead, because in Lip’s eyes, his baby brother was risking his life for a country that – for the most part – didn’t even support what he was doing. To Lip, Ian’s patriotism was in _no_ way a good enough excuse for him to want to go overseas and be shot at by an invisible enemy.

Where Fiona pursed her lips and unhappily nodded her blessing for Ian to enlist, Lip was incredibly vocal. He yelled at Ian, saying he would never support this decision, because he knew the effect the war was having on young men coming back from overseas. Lip knew, and he didn’t want the same thing to happen to his sweet, innocent, _kind hearted_ little brother.

Ian, however, explained to Lip that he would be different to those guys. Ian had been part of the ROTC program during his time at high school – he could hit a freckle from 200 yards with his M16 rifle – the weapon of choice for the American military, he could run a six minute mile, and easily do a set of one hundred push ups. No matter what Lip said to him, Ian was convinced that this training would be enough to get him through basic. Ian was tough, and he would survive.

Lip wasn’t convinced. That was all superficial. He doubted Ian knew – _really_ knew – what he was getting himself into.

For this reason, it was Fiona who accompanied Ian to the enlistment office. She sat with him as he calmly filled out forms, oblivious to the other people in the room. Fiona watched as a dark haired boy, perhaps only a few years older than Ian – maybe around Lip’s age – was shoved into the room by a tall, powerfully built man with grey hair, and forced into one of the hard, plastic chairs, so that he could also fill out enlistment forms.

Fiona watched this boy, because he was the complete opposite of Ian. From what she could overhear of the boy’s conversation with his father, he definitely did not want to be there. The boy’s father was adamant that he would serve in the war – _“Just like your brothers and cousins.”_ , and though the boy had a trembling bottom lip and shaking hands, he had steeled himself. The boy glanced up and quickly around the room, his eyes lingering for a fraction of a second on Ian and his complete composure, before he was picking up a pen to fill in his details. They boy’s father was practically _purring_ with delight as he signed away the last of his youth, because when he came back – and when _Ian_ came back – they would no longer be boys, they would be changed men.

Fiona wasn’t the religious sort, but at that moment, she was praying with every fibre of her being that Ian would not come back as cold hearted and cruel as this man appeared to be. For good measure, she put that dark haired boy in her prayer, because if anyone needed someone to pray for them, surely that boy was close to the top of the list.

 

* * *

 

Mickey Milkovich was far less than thrilled when his father came into his room at the asscrack of dawn and yanked him out of bed. He was considerably less excited than his father to be walking down the street to the enlistment office. He was definitely not pleased when his father pushed him into the room and towards an empty table, where a blank enlistment form lay.

Mickey bit his lip to stop it from giving away his absolute fear to his father, and he flexed his hands in a vain attempt to get them to stop shaking. He didn’t want to be the object of his father’s ridicule for weeks, until he would inevitably leave for basic training. Mickey turned to his father to try and reason with him one last time.

‘I don’t want to do this,’ Mickey said quietly, hoping no one heard the small crack in his voice, towards the end of his sentence.

‘Course you do!’ Terry boomed, pushing him down into the chair. ‘You’re going to do the Milkovich name proud, and fight in the war, just like your brothers and cousins.’

‘No, Dad, I won’t,’ Mickey said, picking up the pen, and twisting it between his fingers. ‘I don’t want to turn into Iggy, or Joey, or go MIA. I don’t want to turn into one of the cousins and come back in a years’ time, and wake up an entire street with my nightmares.’

‘Don’t be fucking stupid,’ Terry growled, smacking Mickey around the head. ‘Your cousins are weak-willed pussies. You’re a Goddamn _man_. You’ll fucking act like one. Fill in the form.’

Mickey looked down to the form and blinked rapidly, trying to clear the mist clouding his eyesight. _It’s only a year, right? It’s not that long._ Mickey looked back up, and around the room. There were a few other guys who, like him, were shaking in their seats as they filled in their own enlistment forms with a steadfast resolve. There was one guy, however, who seemed completely at ease. A redhead, who was sitting with a young brunette woman – his sister, or maybe his girlfriend – and he seemed calm, as he signed away a year of his life.

Mickey decided to invoke that guy for the next little while. He picked up his pen, glanced up to his father’s ridiculously proud expression, and scribbled in his details.

As they left the enlistment office, an overwhelming sense of dread came over Mickey, and swore he had never seen Terry look happier.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i know the first two chapters are short, but dw. there's only one shorter than these two left. and that's waaaay in the future.
> 
> [find me here](http://im-not-his-keeper.tumblr.com/)


	3. Two Weeks

Two weeks.

Two weeks, and then Mickey would be off to basic training. And that in itself would be a shock to the system, let alone travelling halfway across the world to fight in a country he didn’t give two shits either way about. Two weeks of freedom to enjoy the last of his trouble free life. Well, not exactly trouble free, but his way of life _now_ was easier than it would be in a year and a half’s time.

Mickey wasn’t stupid.

He knew what happened overseas, and it was a considerable factor in exactly why he didn’t want to go there. A couple of Mickey’s cousins had already been to Vietnam and come back, and they were a far cry from who they had been before they left.

Gone were the (mostly) careless smiles, and easy laughter. It had all been replaced by shaking hands, heavy drinking and recurring nightmares.

Mickey had seen their scars from bullet fragments and being too close to a Bouncing Betty. He had heard his cousins tell stories of how their buddies had stood on toe poppers and had to have bits of steel from their reinforced boots picked from the remnants of their feet. Some of their friends had been the victims of bow traps, and had to have the bottom half of their leg removed after the wound got infected, because Charlie had tipped the sticks in shit and poison.

Mickey’s cousins had told him how they had woken up screaming after memories had snuck into their dreams. How their buddies had been lucky to escape with their lives and a line of nasty scars after being the victim of a bamboo whip. How some had been impaled by swinging man or spiked ball traps, and how they had held them, watching as the life drained out of their bodies.

Mickey didn’t want to do that.  He didn’t want to go to war and make a bunch of new friends, only to have them ripped away from him, with the possibility of that being _literal_.

He decided, instead of focusing on all of that now, he would cross that bridge when he came to it, and instead, he would try to enjoy the last little while he had to spend with his family, before he went off to basic.

 

* * *

 

Ian hadn’t told his two younger siblings about how he had enlisted yet.

He had discussed it with Fiona, and they decided that he should sit them down to talk to them about it, and treat them like adults. They were barely teenagers, but Fiona said that if they had grown up in this family, and lasted so far? They could handle this.

‘Ian,’ Fiona said, pulling him aside as he herded Debbie and Carl towards the living room. ‘Don’t dumb it down for them. Don’t give them false hopes, but gloss over things a bit so you don’t have them crying hysterically, okay?’

Ian nodded and patted his sister’s hand on his arm reassuringly. ‘I won’t have them waking up screaming, or sleeping in your bed.’

Fiona nodded, but didn’t smile. God knows that wasn’t a smiling situation.

‘Ian?’ Debbie asked, pushing her red hair back behind her ear. ‘What’s going on?’

Ian cleared his throat and clasped his hands together as he sat on the table in front of his younger siblings on the couch. ‘I have something to tell you guys.’

‘What is it? Are you okay?’ Debbie asked, concern flitting across her face.

‘I’m fine.’ _For the moment._ ‘Fiona told me to talk to you two like adults, so that’s what I’m gonna do. I enlisted for the army this morning.’

‘You enlisted?’ Debbie frowned. ‘For the army? To go overseas?’

Ian nodded. ‘I leave for basic training in two weeks.’

‘So we won’t see you?’ Carl asked. ‘How long for?’

Ian calculated in his head. ‘Uhhh... Training is just over four months before I go to Vietnam for a year, then I’m back here, so just over seventeen months.’

‘You’re gonna miss my birthday,’ Carl mumbled to himself.

‘I’ll be almost sixteen when you get back,’ Debbie said quietly, staring over Ian’s shoulder as she took that in.

‘Yeah, Debs. You’ll have all the boys chasing after you,’ Ian said, giving her a small smile. ‘I’ll be back just in time to fight them off and defend your honour.’

Debbie rolled her eyes and laughed before her tone became more serious. ‘You’re not going to die while you’re there, are you? I’ve heard from my friends about how some of their brothers did.’

‘Ian’s gonna _die_?’ Carl exclaimed, looking at Ian with wide eyes.

‘No, I’m not going to die,’ Ian said soothingly, putting a hand on each of his siblings’ knees, hoping that maybe he could calm them a bit. ‘I’ll be back so fast, you won’t even know I was gone in the first place.’

Debbie and Carl exchanged a look before they turned back to Ian and simultaneously launched themselves at him.

‘I’ll miss you,’ Carl said. ‘But at least I get our room to myself now.’

Ian chuckled. ‘You guys have to promise me something. Take care of each other, and take care of Fiona.’

‘I’ll promise to do that if you promise us something,’ Debbie said, her voice muffled as she pressed her face into Ian’s shoulder.

‘Mm?’ Ian asked.

‘Please don’t die,’ she said, squeezing her arms around his back.

‘I won’t,’ Ian said, wrapping an arm around each of them. ‘Promise.’

 

* * *

 

‘I can’t believe you’re going,’ Mandy said quietly, as she sat opposite Mickey on his bed.

‘Yeah, that makes two of us,’ Mickey sighed.

Mandy’s expression softened as she took his hands in her own. She was glad he didn’t pull back, and that Mickey instead squeezed her hands, like they were a lifeline out of the shitfest his life had apparently turned into. ‘Dad shouldn’t be forcing you.’

‘Don’t really got a choice, Mandy.’

‘You could’ve gone to Canada.’

‘Ah, no. I couldn’t have. That would’ve made it even worse for me.’

‘If not Canada, then you could’ve just come out,’ Mandy whispered.

Mickey looked at her like she had grown another head. ‘Are you joking? If I go to ‘Nam, and pretend to be straight, then there’s a possibility I’ll die. If I come out, then Dad will kill me himself. Fatality rate: 100%. I’ll take my chances on war, thank you _very_ much.’

‘You know that when you get back, he wants you to get married,’ Mandy said, almost absentmindedly. ‘He’s already starting to scope out a potential bride for you.’

Mickey let out a heavy sigh. ‘Yippee for me.’

‘Don’t be stupid, Mick,’ Mandy murmured quietly. ‘He can’t force you to get married.’

‘He can, and he will.’

‘But you’re–’

‘Shut the fuck up,’ Mickey hissed, ripping one of his hands from his sister’s to clamp it over her mouth. ‘Don’t fucking say it!’

Mandy narrowed her eyes at him and pried his hand away. ‘You know it, I know it, and it would be so much easier if you just went to Canada. No one would know you, and you wouldn’t be joining the army, dumbass.’

‘Mandy, you don’t–’

‘Don’t what, understand?’ Mandy rolled her eyes. ‘Please. I’m not stupid. Dad would send some guys after you, and you wouldn’t be found, because you always cover your tracks. You would be so far underground, not even I could find you.’

‘Hah.’

‘You don’t think I’m right?’ Mandy put her hand on Mickey’s cheek and turned his head towards her. Mickey was surprised at such a tender gesture coming from his sister and looked at her, directly in the eyes, like he knew was her aim. ‘Mick, when you get back – hell, _if_ you get back – you’re going to end up miserable, stuck in a marriage with a woman. If war doesn’t kill you, that will.’

Mickey bit his lip and dared to let his guard down for a fraction of a second by saying, ‘Yeah. I know.’

Mandy moved her hand to Mickey’s back so she could pull him in for a hug instead, and murmured, ‘I just want you to be happy, Mick.’

Mickey buried his face into Mandy’s hair, where it had fallen over her shoulder. If Terry walked in at that moment, and saw his youngest son shaking and on the verge of tears, he would’ve called him a pussy, and probably socked him in the face. Mickey had never been more thankful for the lock on his door, because he knew that if he didn’t get this fear out of his system right now, he would never get the chance.

 

* * *

 

‘So, you really signed up, huh,’ Lip said, flicking his eyes right to look at his brother, who was sitting on the step below him.

‘Yup,’ Ian blew out a cloud of smoke and leaned back, resting his elbows against the splintering wooden planks of the Gallaghers’ back porch.

Lip shook his head in disbelief. ‘Why you would sign up for the army instead of go to college, I’ll never understand.’

‘You know why. I always wanted to enlist, you’ve never liked it, and seeing as I’ll be off to Vietnam right after training...’ Ian shrugged. ‘It’s not your problem, Lip.’

‘If you _die_ , it’ll be my problem!’

‘I’m not going to die, Jesus. Stop being such a pessimist,’ Ian rolled his eyes and stubbed out the cigarette in the ashtray between them.

‘Just being realistic,’ Lip clicked his tongue as he ground out his own cigarette. ‘I’m telling you now, man. You’re gonna come back, and be a completely different person.’

Ian sighed. ‘I know. It’s called growing up.’

‘You’ve already grown up. You’ll come back aged, because war makes boys into men, and it’s going to change the entire way you view the world and the people in it.’

‘Are you trying to convince me to change my mind?’

‘Nope, because I know nothing will stop you.’

‘Exactly.’

‘I just think it’s really sad that when they find out about your “homosexual activities” that they’ll give you a dishonourable discharge, because that will crush you.’

‘They’re not going to find out,’ Ian murmured. ‘And it’s not like they can take back all the training and time I spent fighting for this country when they _do_ find out.’

Lip huffed in amusement. ‘So, you’re basically going with the approach of “Fuck it, they can’t prove anything”.’

‘Basically,’ Ian agreed.

‘Lying to the government, huh? Interesting tactics, little brother,’ Lip shook another cigarette out of the pack and lit it, taking a long pull before exhaling the smoke through his nostrils. ‘Can’t say you don’t have balls.’

Ian grinned. ‘My balls will be front and centre.’

‘Only figuratively, I hope,’ Lip said, flicking ash at Ian, and receiving a slap to the leg for his efforts.

 

* * *

 

Mickey’s farewell party largely consisted of his remaining family getting together to drink, smoke, and get high. So pretty much, it was an average weekend at the Milkovich household, only with more snacks, and a banner reading _“Don’t die, Mickey!”_ which he did not find funny in the slightest.

Mickey knew he should’ve been enjoying his last few days before going off to basic, but when you’re almost shitting yourself with nerves, and the overwhelming desire to, y’know, _not_ die, it’s pretty difficult to enjoy anything.

Instead of joining the “festivities” with the rest of his extended family and friends, Mickey sat in his room with Mandy, hunched into a ball on the corner of his bed. He was drinking beer like it was the only thing connecting him to this world, and smoking more than a chimney in winter.

All the while, Mandy sat beside him, not saying anything. There was nothing to be said, so neither of them tried to break the silence. They just sat there, listening to the rest of their relations celebrate Mickey’s upcoming deployment. At least someone was getting some enjoyment out of the event.

 

* * *

 

Ian’s farewell party wasn’t exactly a small affair. It seemed like every person he had ever met had somehow found themselves invited to his house, to drink on his behalf, and raise a glass to his good health.

Fucking. Bullshit.

They were all Frank’s useless friends, and where there was free alcohol, they were too. Just like moths to a fucking flame. Nevertheless, they were accepted into the party, and somehow ended up forcing Ian upstairs.

Ian lay on his bed, staring up at the ceiling, wondering if there was a chance that Lip might be right. Of course, Lip usually was about these things, but Ian hated giving him the satisfaction of saying as much.

Ian didn’t even notice Debbie and Carl had joined him on his bed, until they were literally clinging to his sides. ‘What are you guys doing here?’ Ian asked, pulling his younger siblings into his arms.

‘We don’t want you to go,’ Debbie said, twisting her fingers into the fabric of Ian’s shirt.

‘I know,’ Ian sighed, looking up at the army poster above his head. He wondered if his dreams were worth putting his family through this. ‘I’ll be fine, though. There’s nothing to worry about.’

‘You’re going to a warzone, right?’ Carl asked, looking at him incredulously.

‘Well, yeah.’

‘Then how do you know you’ll be okay?’

‘Yeah,’ Debbie agreed. ‘How do you know you won’t get shot or get a leg blown off, or something?’

‘I suppose I don’t,’ Ian sighed. ‘But even if I do, it’ll be for a good cause, right?’

‘Fiona says the war is a bad idea,’ Carl said monotonously, looking up to his brother for confirmation.

‘War in _general_ is a bad idea, but it’s for our freedom and protection. I’m just helping out,’ Ian said, giving Carl a reassuring smile. When Debbie looked down and mumbled something, Ian’s smile turned to a frown. ‘What’s that, Debs?’

‘You won’t be helping out, you’ll be killing other people. Don’t they have a right to live, too?’ she asked, biting her lip nervously, like Ian might get angry at her for saying that.

‘They do, of course they do. I’m not going with the intention to kill people, but if they shoot at me, I’m gonna shoot back,’ Ian said.

‘So you _are_ gonna be shot at?’ Carl said.

‘Most likely.’

‘You’re gonna die, aren’t you?’

‘No, of course not. I’ll be fine, guys. Okay? You just gotta trust me. I’m like a ninja, they’ll never see me zip through the jungle.’

It seemed like the joke was lost on his younger siblings, because no matter what Ian said, they still clung to him and repeatedly whispered, _“Please don’t die.”_

That was around about the time when Ian realised he was probably making a mistake in joining the military. It was all he could do to hold the two youngest Gallaghers and tell them he would be fine, as his house was full of strangers, all happily celebrating the end of his childhood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [~tumblr~](http://im-not-his-keeper.tumblr.com/)


	4. Basic

No one really said anything.

Ian gave his family one last hug, knowing that it could full well be the last time he would see them. There was no guarantee that he would get a break between finishing basic training and getting sent to Vietnam, and even if he did, he might not get granted leave to come back and see his family. He thought that might just make it worse, anyway.

As Debbie bawled, not exactly quietly, she was comforted by a stoic Lip, who gave his little brother a one armed hug, and said, ‘See you soon, Ian.’

Ian nodded curtly and replied with, ‘Be good, Lip.’

Carl sniffed behind Fiona, who was now giving Ian a bone crushing hug. ‘I’m gonna miss you, kid.’

‘Yeah, Fi,’ Ian said, returning the hug, equally as tight. ‘I’m gonna miss you guys, too.’

‘You better. We’ll be thinking of you.’

‘Good, because I’d hate for there to be no one here to pick me up when I get back.’

Ian laughed, but Fiona didn’t find it so funny. ‘Don’t be stupid. We’ll be counting down the days, Ian.’ She released him and pulled him down so she could kiss his forehead. ‘You can get through this. We’ll send you letters, and expect them back, okay?’

‘I’ll write to you whenever I get the chance,’ Ian promised, pulling the rest of his family in for a group hug. ‘I love you guys all so much.’

‘Love you too, Ian,’ the group chorused.

Ian smiled sadly. ‘I should get on the bus, I suppose.’

As the group squeezed once more before taking a step back, Fiona sniffed and wiped away a tear, putting a brave face on for her two youngest siblings. ‘Stay safe. Come back in one piece, okay?’

‘I’ll do my best,’ Ian nodded, taking one last look at his siblings, before he turned around and climbed onto the bus, taking a window seat, right next to where his siblings were standing, waiting for the bus to leave in a few moments time.

Fiona’s lip trembled as she looked at Ian sitting on the bus, and she turned away to focus on the people around her, instead. She didn’t want what might be her last memory of her brother to be him waiting to meet his fate.

As Fiona looked around the various families sending off sons and brothers, she spotted the dark haired boy she had seen at the enlistment office, standing with a dark haired girl a few feet away. Fiona watched them, and noticed that the man who had been with this boy at the office wasn’t here. Maybe that boy had a shithead father, too.

 

* * *

 

‘Jesus, Mandy. Don’t kill me before I’m on the fucking bus,’ Mickey murmured, not actually minding too much that he was having difficulty breathing, if it meant that Mandy felt even the smallest bit better.

‘I don’t want you to go,’ Mandy mumbled, screwing her fists tightly into Mickey’s shirt.

‘It’s not like it’s a death sentence, Mands.’

‘Shut up. It’s as good as.’

_Yeah, I know._ Mickey sighed, because if he said that to his sister, she would probably follow him onto the bus and protect his ass all the way through the jungles of Vietnam. Instead, he muttered, ‘Thanks for your support in my will to live.’

‘Your “will to live” means shitall, Mick,’ Mandy said. ‘You needa be smart, and pay attention to everything that can keep you alive. The cousins told you–’

‘Look where you step, trust your instincts, and always be on your guard. I know, Mands. I’ll try not to get my foot blown off, and I’ll avoid tripwires. Don’t worry, I got this,’ Mickey replied, sounding wholly unconvinced by his own words. ‘Just... You stay safe.’

‘I should be saying that to you,’ Mandy said, finally releasing Mickey from her death grip.

‘I’m serious,’ Mickey said, looking his sister in the eyes. ‘That little knife I gave you? Keep it with you if no one else is home apart from you and Dad. Stab him in the face, and run the fuck away. Got it?’

Mandy nodded, sniffing as she felt tears prick in her eyes. ‘Please don’t die, Mick.’

Mickey sighed and pulled his sister back for one last hug. ‘I won’t,’ he kissed Mandy on the cheek, before stepping away, getting halfway into the bus and saying, ‘Stay safe.’

Mandy nodded. ‘You too, Mick.’

Mickey gave her a small smile before he went down the aisle of the bus and took the open seat next to the redhead he had seen at the enlistment office.

Red was staring out the window at a group of four people, two girls and two boys, all holding each other and fighting back tears as they looked up at him.

Mickey watched as the young brunette woman walked away from the group and went over to where Mandy was standing, still looking up at the bus. The woman tapped Mandy on the shoulder and must’ve said something, because a moment later, the woman was holding Mandy, as her barrier finally broke, and sobs racked through her tiny body. She held onto the brunette’s arms as they cried together, consoling one another.

As the bus started up, people outside started waving up at their family members inside. The brunette was still holding Mandy as the bus took off, rounding the corner. Mickey was glad someone was there for his sister if he couldn’t be.

 

* * *

 

The journey was long, the journey was boring, the journey was quiet. Mostly.

A few guys were talking here and there, and Mickey wasn’t sure if he wanted to talk to the guy next to him or not. They had been on the bus for nearly an hour and a half already, but neither of them spoke. It was starting to eat at him, so Mickey opened his mouth to say something, but was interrupted.

‘So it looks like my sister was comforting your girlfriend,’ Red said quietly, turning to give Mickey a half smile.

‘What?’ Mickey asked. ‘Mandy? She’s my sister.’

‘Oh,’ Red said, clearing his throat awkwardly. ‘I’m Ian. Gallagher. Ian Gallagher.’

Mickey raised an eyebrow at how this guy awkwardly tripped over his own name. ‘Mickey Milkovich.’

‘Mickey short for something?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Gonna tell me what?’

‘Nope.’

Ian shrugged. ‘Fair enough. Where are you from? South Side?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Me too.’ Ian said brightly. ‘You don’t say much, do you?’

‘I’m not really getting a chance to say anything, with you yapping your trap off,’ Mickey muttered, crossing his arms over his chest and stretching his legs out under the chair. When he noticed Ian frowning at him, Mickey glared back. ‘Why you lookin’ at me like that?’

‘Your legs are so small, is all.’

‘Excuse me?’

‘You can actually stretch,’ Ian explained, demonstrating his own inability to do so.

‘Man, stop complaining about having long legs,’ Mickey said, rolling his eyes. ‘When we get to ‘Nam, those legs are probably gonna fuckin’ save you.’

Ian opened his mouth to speak, but shut it again, and turned his attention back to looking out the window. Mickey thought Ian was going to ignore him for the remainder of the trip, but a few moments later, Ian said, ‘Or make me a target.’

Mickey tilted his head. ‘Are you scared?’

Ian turned back to Mickey, eyebrows raised. ‘Aren’t you?’

Mickey shrugged. ‘Gotta do what you gotta do, right?’

‘That doesn’t answer the question.’

Mickey narrowed his eyes. ‘I’m not scared, and fuck you for thinking it.’

‘Sorry,’ Ian mumbled.

‘How fuckin’ old are you, man?’

‘Eighteen.’

Mickey huffed a laugh. ‘Fuck that.’

‘Why? How old are you?’

‘Twenty.’

‘You’re the same age as my brother,’ Ian said, sounding positively surprised at this new information.

‘Yippee fuckin’ yay for us,’ Mickey replied sarcastically. ‘Where’s your brother, then?’

‘University of Chicago.’

‘Ah. One of the smart ones, huh? Avoiding the army.’

Ian sighed. ‘I always wanted to enlist. I was in ROTC during high school, and well... Here I am.’

‘Living the dream,’ Mickey shook his head. ‘Some of my cousins came back from Vietnam a few months ago, and I’m tellin’ ya, kid, the only reason I’m sittin’ here right now is because my Dad forced me to enlist.’

‘It won’t be that bad,’ Ian said, his voice sounding like it was something he’d practiced saying a hundred times. ‘It’s for our freedom.’

Mickey fixed him with an incredulous look. ‘Is it?’

 

* * *

 

Two weeks into basic, and Mickey was wondering if it would’ve been easier to just come out to everyone and avoid all this fucking pain. His muscles ached, he wasn’t getting any fucking sleep, and his head was cold because of the fancy new buzzcut he was sporting.

On the up side, Mickey had firmed his friendship with Ian, after the redhead had taken it upon himself to keep Mickey in line and stop him from being pissy and sarcastic towards their drill sergeant. Mickey and Ian had also met a guy named Drew, who, like Mickey, had been forced to enlist by his father.

Drew had come to be friends with Ian and Mickey, after they had stepped in while he was getting ganged up on by a group of burly guys with not enough brain matter to pilot their enormous bodies in a fully functioning manner. The group had chosen to go with the insult “pretty boy”, as Drew – with caramel coloured hair, olive skin, and blue eyes – obviously didn’t fit in with their description of a “man’s man”. The group had Drew literally cornered, and Ian and Mickey were just walking past to their bunk, when they recognised Drew from a few beds down in their row.

Ian looked to Mickey, who shrugged back, so Ian went up to the four guys, and tapped one on the shoulder. ‘What’s going on here?’

‘This pretty boy is gonna get us killed,’ the guy explained, pointing accusingly at Drew.

Mickey cleared his throat. ‘How you figure that?’

The group looked at each other, not coming up with a response amongst themselves, and leaving it to their ringleader to continue. ‘He’s weak. He’s gonna take us down with him.’

‘Right, well, in case it escaped your notice, we’re still in basic,’ Drew said.

‘Exactly. Why don’t you guys go play strip poker, or somethin’?’ Mickey suggested.

The group didn’t look happy, but cracked their knuckles menacingly and walked away, leaving Drew with Ian and Mickey.

Drew let out a deep breath as the group made their way over to a set of bunks to play cards at. ‘Thanks for that, I guess. Didn’t really need your help, but thanks.’

Ian raised his eyebrows. ‘Is that so?’

‘I had it under control.’

‘No offense, man, but you look like a stiff wind could blow you over,’ Mickey said, looking Drew up and down. ‘How did you even get past the physical examination?’

‘Excuse _you_ ,’ Drew said indignantly. ‘I _run_. I’m perfectly muscled, unlike _you_ , the human equivalent of a tank.’

Mickey raised his eyebrows. ‘A tank? Those guys were tanks. I’m more of a...’

‘Land Rover?’ Ian suggested.

‘Fuck off,’ Mickey said, giving Ian the finger.

Ian grinned and turned to Drew. ‘We were gonna play cards or something. You wanna join?’

Drew shrugged. ‘I suppose.’

 

* * *

 

Mickey was constantly being surprised by Ian. Like, yeah, he knew Ian had been in ROTC, but he hadn’t really thought it would mean too much when he needed to translate those skills into basic training. However, Ian definitely had the upper hand when it came to things like maps and compass use (seriously, how the fuck did those things even work?), and Mickey was halfway to calling it fucking _witchcraft_ , but Ian was in his element. He had no problem obeying orders, keeping everything in his possession spick and span, or with any of the physical aspects of training.

The drill sergeant called him a “model recruit”, and Mickey swore that Ian puffed his chest out a little further at the compliment, but he already knew Ian well enough to know that in the little twinge at the corner of his mouth, the redhead was trying not to laugh.

Later on, while Mickey, Ian and Drew were sat around playing cards, using a trunk for a makeshift table, Mickey looked up at Ian opposite him, and said, ‘Why were you trying not to laugh earlier when Mills called you a model recruit?’

Ian looked up from his hand and raised an eyebrow. ‘I have no idea what you’re talking about.’

‘Don’t lie to me, Gallagher,’ Mickey said, throwing in his hand. ‘I know you better than that.’

‘You’ve known me for _three and a half weeks_ ,’ Ian said, rolling his eyes and throwing in his hand on top of Mickey’s. ‘You don’t know anything about me.’

‘I know that face you make when you’re trying not to laugh. You were doing it the whole time I was struggling with that fucking map and coordinates and whatever the fuck else,’ Mickey put the deck of cards back together and handed it to Drew. ‘Shuffle.’

Drew rolled his eyes. ‘Well, since you asked so nicely.’

‘C’mon, Gallagher! What was with the face?’ Mickey said, nudging his shoulder with the toe of his boot.

Ian frowned and pushed the boot away. ‘You tell me your full first name, and I’ll tell you why I was trying not to laugh.’

Mickey scowled at Ian. ‘No dice.’

Ian shrugged. ‘That’s what I thought. Ooh, good deal, Drew,’ he said, picking up the new hand Drew had given out.

‘Poker face, man,’ Mickey said, looking at Ian over the top of his own cards.

‘Hmm?’

‘You’re not supposed to say when you’ve got a good hand, idiot.’

‘Shit, did I say that out loud?’

‘Yeah.’

Ian cleared his throat before saying in an overly fake voice, ‘Oh, gosh darn it, Drew! This is the worst hand I have ever had.’

Drew just rolled his eyes.

 

* * *

 

Mickey hated absolutely fucking everything about basic training – apart from training with his rifle, because that was one thing he _did_ know how to do. From the insults their drill sergeant flung at them like mud, while he put them through hell on a daily basis, to hating how much time they spent standing at attention and cleaning their fucking boots, and he especially hated how much time they spent running around – with or without their heavy packs – while being forced to repeat army cadences.

Mickey didn’t want to be in the army in the first place, so it didn’t really help to be repeating things like:

 

_If I die in Vietnam,_

_Send my body home to Mom._

_Fold my arms across my chest,_

_Tell my girl I done my best._

Because not only did he not particularly want to die in Vietnam, but his mother had run off because she wanted to be “free as a bird”, and Mickey had no girl to go home to. Apart from Mandy, but he didn’t think she counted in this sense of the word. Especially not since all the other guys were always talking about how great their girlfriend’s tits were or whatever.

They all expected Mickey to join in with their discussion of the female anatomy, so he just made some crap up, drawing on his experience with girls from his period of complete and utter denial of his sexuality.

There had come a time in Mickey’s life, when he was about eighteen, that he had decided to stop screwing around with girls. He didn’t enjoy it, and he always felt weird after finishing up with one, so he just made up stories to tell his brothers and father to appease their inquisitiveness about his sex life. They seemed to accept it, but Mandy had always had the ability to read him like a book, and she picked out the dead look in his eyes, or the lack of multidimensional expression in his voice.

Mandy had sat him down one day, about eight months after his epiphany, taking full advantage of an empty house apart from the two of them, and asked him whether or not he was gay.

Mickey had, of course, flat out denied it, jumping off his bed and pacing in front of his sister, saying, ‘No, of course not! God no!’

‘Mick,’ Mandy had said softly. ‘I don’t care, and it’s not like I’m going to tell anyone.’

Mickey had stopped pacing briefly, to look at his sister, while he chewed his lip until it bled. ‘You swear?’

‘Yeah, Mick. I swear,’ Mandy said, getting up to pull him in for a hug.

That was why Mandy had always been his favourite. They looked out for each other, and he knew that she was the only person he could trust completely – or as completely as was possible. He and Mandy had always looked out for each other, always protected each other, and he supposed that came from them being the two youngest siblings, with the smallest age gap between them. They were always on the same side, and to them, Mandy holding Mickey’s secret was equivalent to Mickey preventing their father – or his friends – from laying their hands on her. Or taking care of her if, God forbid, Mickey was too late to stop them.

That was why Mickey had gifted his sister a small silver switchblade a couple of years ago. After the first time Mickey had come home and found his little sister curled into a ball under his bed, lying amongst the cigarette butts, socks, and Playboy magazines he had stolen from his older brothers, he had realised that he couldn’t always be there for her. The next day, he had gone out and bought her the knife. He showed her how to use it, and taught her a bit of basic self defence, and prayed for the best.

Oh Mandy. When he was lying in his bunk at night, his mind would often wander to his sister. God, he hoped she was okay. If their father had done anything to her... When he got back, he would kill him. _If._ If he got back. But Mickey would get back, of course he would, he would do it for Mandy. It was his job to protect her from their repulsive father.

Needless to say, thoughts of killing Terry always sent Mickey into a happy slumber.

 

* * *

 

‘This is fucking ridiculous,’ Mickey muttered.

‘I know,’ Ian replied.

‘How the fuck..?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘He’s cheating.’

‘I agree.’

They turned their heads towards Drew, who looked up at them over his two cards. ‘What?’

‘You’re cheating,’ Mickey said. ‘You’re never this good.’

‘Can’t a person just have been dealt really shitty hands up until this point?’ Drew asked.

Ian and Mickey looked at each other and said together, ‘No.’

‘Oh, come on!’ Drew said exasperatedly. ‘I didn’t even deal! Or shuffle, for that matter. It was Ian.’

‘Hey! Don’t pin this on me,’ Ian said, narrowing his eyes and half-heartedly kicking out at Drew.

‘There are other ways to cheat, dumbass,’ Mickey pointed out. ‘Sure you’re not hiding all the aces in your sleeve or some shit?’

Drew stared at him. ‘I’m in a fucking tank top.’

Mickey blinked. ‘Fuck.’

Ian laughed. ‘Maybe he just got lucky, Mick.’

‘How fucking likely is that? He’s got the worst fucking luck I’ve ever seen.’

Ian shrugged. ‘Well, I’m out, anyway. Drew? Cards?’

Drew grinned as he laid down a ten and the ace of hearts. ‘Do I win?’

‘You little fucker,’ Mickey growled, throwing in his own hand. ‘That’s five in a row. I give the fuck up.’

‘Great! What are we even playing for?’ Drew asked, gathering the cards.

‘Peanuts, probably,’ Ian said absently. ‘Maybe cigarettes? We should’ve thought this through earlier.’

‘I don’t smoke,’ Drew said.

‘Then stop winning,’ Mickey replied, eyebrow raised. ‘Or, y’know, we can team up and you can take all of Gallagher’s cigarettes and give them to me.’

‘What do I get in return?’ Drew asked, tapping his chin thoughtfully.

‘I won’t kill you in your sleep.’

‘Seems fair.’

‘Um, I’d prefer no one took my cigarettes,’ Ian said, frowning as he watched his friends shake hands on their deal. ‘How about we just keep you from getting killed, huh? You’re not built for this shit, Drew.’

Drew shrugged. ‘I was always more into arts than sports, at school. I was going to be a lawyer.’

‘And now you’re here, just like us,’ Mickey sighed. ‘Slumming it with the Southside kids.’

‘My parents would be disgusted,’ Drew nodded. ‘So I’m gonna stick with you guys.’

‘All about fucking off parents, huh?’

‘Absolutely.’

‘You got any siblings?’ Ian asked. ‘Gonna miss them?’

‘Nope. Just me.’

‘Wow, you shot that straight out of the sky, huh?’ Ian laughed. ‘Girlfriend?’

Drew frowned. ‘No.’

‘Jesus, Gallagher!’ Mickey said, giving him a backhanded slap on the chest. ‘Stop interrogating him!’

‘Good practice if I ever end up in the Hanoi Hilton,’ Drew muttered.

Mickey blinked. ‘Man, you would not last in there.’

Ian gave Drew a reassuring smile. ‘Ignore him. We won’t let you get to the Hilton, don’t worry.’

 

* * *

 

Basic training finished quickly, before it was on to another eight weeks of hell, aka AIT, aka Advanced Individual Training, aka infantry training that would hopefully keep them alive. AIT pretty much passed the same way as the previous eight weeks – pain, running, guns, and card games in their spare time.

After AIT, there was two weeks of RVN, aka training for the Republic of Vietnam, aka actual useful stuff. They were taught how to shoot live rounds from their beloved rifles, without moving the gun from their hip to their shoulder in order to aim, as well as how to jump into and run out of the back of a two and a half tonne army truck.

They were given their orders – three weeks, and they would be flying out to Vietnam. Ian, Mickey and Drew were all given the chance to go back to their respective families for that time.

‘Yeah, I’m going to see my family,’ Drew nodded, jumping off Mickey’s bunk to go pack the stuff he would need. ‘Might be the last time they see me alive, so I might as well. See ya, guys.’

Ian and Mickey half heartedly bid him farewell, while they pondered on their own decisions.

‘You gonna go back?’ Ian asked Mickey, kicking out at him as he stood up.

‘Dunno. I wanna go check on Mandy, but she’ll never let me leave again,’ Mickey shrugged. ‘Guess I’m staying here. What about you? Gonna see yours?’

‘Nah, it’ll be even harder to leave once I’m there.’

‘Exactly.’

‘So we’re staying here?’ Ian asked.

‘Yeah,’ Mickey nodded. ‘Water pressure is better here than at my house.’

‘Same. When I get my own apartment, the water pressure is going to be all I care about, I think,’ Ian mused.

Mickey grinned. ‘And long showers.’

‘Ah, dreams,’ Ian sighed. ‘Good water pressure in a long shower.’

Mickey laughed. ‘You’re fucking weird.’

‘Thank you. I take that as a compliment.’

‘So three weeks, huh?’ Mickey asked, climbing up to sit with Ian on his bunk.

‘Three weeks,’ Ian nodded. ‘Then on a plane and off to war.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [you know where to find me~](http://im-not-his-keeper.tumblr.com/)


	5. Live For Today

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title from the song 'Live For Today' by The Grass Roots. 
> 
> Also, I keep forgetting to mention that Liam doesn't exist in this fic. Just in case you were wondering where the hell he's been.

If there was one thing to be said for Vietnam, it was that it was hot. Needless to say, it didn’t really help that they had to carry all their gear, plus an M-16. Their helmets kept their heads toasty warm, and did little to protect them from the sun, but if there was a choice between wearing the helmet and being that extra bit hot, or getting shot in the head by an unseen enemy? Yeah, they’d take the helmet.

As well as being a vital bit of armour, the helmets were also pretty handy when it came to storing small items. Most guys had a pack of cigarettes under the elastic, along with the army issue Zippo, a bottle of lighter fluid, and some also had photos of loved ones from home. A few had already gotten their hands on markers to scrawl things across the material of their helmets – some protesting the war from the frontline.

One day, Ian came back into the tent he and Mickey shared with Drew, and tossed his helmet onto his cot as he flopped down.

Mickey raised an eyebrow at Ian, and flicked his eyes to Ian’s helmet. It looked different. ‘Got your hands on a pen, huh, Gallagher?’

‘What?’ Ian asked, pushing himself up on two elbows to glare at Mickey. Ian followed his line of sight and rolled his eyes, before throwing his helmet to Mickey. ‘Yeah, I did.’

Mickey huffed a laugh as he read Ian’s message, throwing the helmet back to his friend. ‘I thought you were excited about the army? “Make love, not war”? The fuck, Gallagher?’

‘I’m starting to think I made a mistake,’ Ian admitted, pulling out one of his cigarettes and lighting it.

‘You think?’ Mickey asked sarcastically. ‘Man, we all made mistakes. I just didn’t think you’d be one of the first to mark your helmet.’

‘Yeah, apparently neither did the XO. He’s not that pleased with it.’

‘No shit,’ Mickey laughed. ‘Still, I thought Drew would be the first to have that crap on his head.’

‘He was,’ Ian replied, flicking ash at him. ‘Where do you think I got the pen from?’

‘Seriously? Knox did it first?’

Ian shrugged. ‘He’s not that enthusiastic about war.’

‘Yeah, me either,’ Mickey said, eyeing his own blank helmet. ‘But I ain’t gonna plaster it across my forehead and make myself a target.’

 

* * *

 

Mickey couldn’t help but find it ironic.

They were pretty much right in the middle of a warzone, and there was a bunch of guys in his platoon – led by Ian, of course – singing “Live For Today” by The Grass Roots. Their voices echoed as they sang, _‘Sha-la-la-la-la-la, live for today, and don’t worry ‘bout tomorrow, hey hey hey hey,’_ with Ian enthusiastically singing, ‘ _One, two, three, four, SHA-LA-LA-LA-LA-LA,'_ right into Mickey’s ear.

Their commanding officer, some burly dude named Carter, who they all called “Darling” just to piss him off, had already told the group a few times to shut the fuck up, but Mickey could hear him humming the tune under his breath as they crossed a dirt road and carried on walking across a large expanse of ground with waist high plants that Mickey didn’t recognise. Something along the back of Mickey’s neck pricked as they entered the area, and this time it was Mickey who turned around to speak to them. ‘Shut the fuck up, would you?’

Ian stopped mid sentence, and frowned at him. ‘Why would we do that? We’ve been walking for hours, nothing is going to change in the next three minutes.’

‘Gallagher, do me a fucking favour, okay? I have a bad feeling about this area, so be fucking quiet so we can hear something other than your wailing.’

Ian rolled his eyes, but waved his hand at the rest of his choir to cut off them off mid-verse. ‘Happy?’ he asked, turning to Mickey. Ian came to an abrupt halt as Mickey threw his arm out to stop him walking. ‘What the–’

Mickey flicked his eyes down pointedly at the ground in front of Ian. ‘You’re welcome.’

Ian pushed Mickey’s arm off and looked down at whatever the fuck Mickey had seen. ‘Oh _shit_ ,’ he said, spotting the almost invisible trip wire. ‘Bow trap?’

‘Probably,’ Mickey nodded. ‘Pass word on, and seriously. Stop singing.’

Ian grinned and turned to address a few guys behind him, as Mickey continued walking, Drew by his side. They had come _this close_ to alerting anyone else in the area of their presence, because had Ian knocked that wire, it would’ve unleashed an arrow hidden amongst the plants somewhere, and shot right into Ian’s leg.

_Shit._ That meant... ‘Ay, Darling!’ Mickey hissed.

Up ahead, the other man turned around and glared at Mickey. ‘What do you want, Milkovich?’

‘Gallagher almost walked into a bow trap a few feet back. That means Charlie’s round here,’ Mickey said, eyes darting around the field and the jungle lining it.

Carter nodded. ‘Hope you got a good grip on that gun of yours then.’

Mickey nodded grimly in return. ‘Yes, sir.’

Although, ultimately, nothing happened as the group continued walking, Mickey was hyperaware of his surroundings, and his eyes were constantly darting between scanning the foliage at the edges of the field, carefully looking a few feet ahead for any signs of booby traps at all, and checking behind him to make sure that Ian and Drew were still with the group.

Mickey was starting to become very protective over those two – Ian and Drew. They were barely legal adults, with both of them having turned eighteen just a few months before enlisting, and here they were, in a warzone, with M-16s slung over their shoulders. Mickey felt like he was becoming a den mother, of sorts. He was always looking out for the pair of them, and he supposed that was because they had gone through basic together, and had become quite good friends.

That, and the fact that Mickey was more than a little bit attracted to Ian. However, there was not a single part of Mickey that thought Ian was anything but straight, so he told himself that it wasn’t a sexual or romantic attraction, and was merely just Ian sucking Mickey in because he was a genuinely kind and charismatic person, and it seemed like almost everyone in a three mile radius of Ian gravitated towards him, because he was a sun that planets and stars orbited around. He certainly gave off warmth like a sun, and having spent the past few nights sleeping next to Ian while they were out on this mission, Mickey could confirm that the boy was like a damn furnace.

Mickey could almost fool himself into thinking that his attraction – whatever the fuck it might be – wasn’t completely one sided. He sometimes saw Ian watching him, whether that was out of the corner of his eye, or if he caught Ian staring openly at him, but Ian’s expression was completely unreadable, so Mickey elected to ignore it, and to ignore the way that it made something in his stomach twist into weird knots.

Later that day, as they picked a spot to make camp, Ian and Mickey sat against a tree, side by side, and eating their C-rations. Drew was off somewhere, constructing their little sleeping quarters for the next few days, because he didn’t trust Mickey or Ian to do it right – despite having been trained how to properly construct a watertight field bunker, when either of them made one, rain would always drip through and get them soaked in the middle of the night.

‘So,’ Ian said, stabbing half heartedly at his food. ‘How’re you enjoying ‘Nam so far, Mick?’

Mickey snorted before sarcastically replying, ‘Yeah, it’s great. I mean, what’s not to love about being shot at? And those booby traps, oh man, my favourite,’ he shot Ian a look. ‘That was a stupid fuckin’ question, Gallagher.’

‘Just tryna make conversation, Mick,’ Ian sighed. ‘Don’t want to just sit here.’

‘Why not? Silence is golden, man.’

‘We’re in the middle of fucking nowhere. Silence is not golden. It means either everyone is dead, or everyone is about to get attacked, and _then_ die.’

Mickey rolled his eyes. ‘Jesus Christ, would it kill you to be a little positive?’

‘Why should I be?’

‘Because I’m the realistic one, and you’re the enthusiastic and happy one.’

‘What about Drew? Where does he fit into this?’ Ian asked, raising an eyebrow at Mickey’s logic.

Mickey bit his lip thoughtfully. ‘Drew’s the idiot.’

Ian’s face split into a grin. ‘Debatable.’

‘Excuse me,’ Drew said, sitting down in front of the pair, and cracking into his own C-ration. ‘The idiot just finished constructing a hooch for your asses to sleep in tonight, so you won’t be in the rain.’

‘Thank you, dear,’ Ian smiled. ‘You’re a gift to humanity.’

‘It’s a shame my parents don’t agree,’ Drew replied.

‘Join the club, man,’ Mickey said, scraping the inside of his tin for the last few bits of food inside. ‘Me and Gallagher are co-presidents.’

‘The “Bad Parents Club”?’ Drew scoffed. ‘That’s pathetic.’

‘Just like our parents,’ Ian said, raising his tin in a toast. ‘To bad and useless parents.’

‘Hear, hear,’ Drew muttered darkly, stabbing his food.

Mickey raised an eyebrow. ‘What’s the deal with yours?’

‘Deal with my what?’ Drew asked.

‘Parents.’

Drew grimaced. ‘My father forced me to enlist in the hope that if I came back alive, I would be a bit straighter.’

Mickey almost choked on his food, while Ian, who was more in control of his faculties, thumped him on the back and hissed, ‘Drew, are you gay?’

Drew shrugged. ‘Wouldn’t matter if I was or not. Fact is, my dad won’t care if I die here or not, and my mother would only feel slightly put out,’ Drew huffed a laugh. ‘She would be more upset about no grandbabies then me dying.’

‘Shit,’ Ian murmured.

‘Don’t let me steal all the glory. Why’re your parents all so shitty?’ Drew asked, looking expectantly at the pair in front of him.

‘My dad is an alcoholic and went to Canada to avoid the war,’ Ian started. ‘And my mom ran off somewhere after she got diagnosed with manic depression, so me and my four siblings were pretty much abandoned by them. My sister dropped out of school so she could look after us all, and she’s been doing that for the better part of five years.’

‘My mom left, too,’ Mickey nodded. ‘My dad is an abusive asshole, and when I get back home, I’m taking my baby sister and getting her outta that house as soon as I can, you know?’

Ian and Drew hummed in agreement. The three of them sat in silence for a while after that, watching as dark clouds rolled into the sky and settled overhead, opening up and unleashing the rain they carried. When the tree they were under became decisively inadequate shelter from the fat drops now coming steadily down, the trio moved into their bunker, which had been finished earlier, courtesy of Drew.

It would seem that their conversation about their parents had set the tone for the remainder of the evening, because they all seemed to be lost in their own thoughts, with minimal communication between them, the only exception being grunts of acknowledgement or thanks for a lighter or cigarette.

The incommunicativeness lasted into the night, as they settled down to sleep. Their moods still hadn’t fully elevated back to normal by morning, and most likely weren’t going to get the chance to, after Carter announced that the platoon was going on a raid to a nearby village later in the day.

Raids were definitely one way to boost morale.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay just in case, i think we're heading into the territory of terms some people might not know? so if there's anything you don't get (whether that be slang, or the mechanics of a booby trap) then feel free to ask and i'd be more than happy to help you out c:
> 
> [tumblr~](http://im-not-his-keeper.tumblr.com/)


	6. Hearts and Minds

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whoops this was meant to be up like 12 hours ago. got distracted by the moon eclipse thingy last night. at least there'll only be 12 hours until the next chapter *shrugs*

_“So we must be ready to fight in Vietnam, but the ultimate victory will depend upon the hearts and minds of the people who actually live out there. By helping to bring them hope and electricity you are also striking a very important blow for the cause of freedom throughout the world.”  
– President Lyndon Johnson’s speech at a dinner meeting of the Texas Electric Cooperative, Inc., May 4, 1965._

_“We are here to win the hearts and minds of the Vietnamese people” was a catchphrase used by the U.S Military in Saigon._

 

* * *

 

They should’ve expected it, really. The Zippo missions were something they had been doing for weeks, and something they would probably continue doing up until they were sent back home. Sometimes the land or roads and paths around the villages were dotted with booby traps, and hid armed enemy forces.

Having just found and destroyed an area storing supplies meant for Charlie, Ian and Mickey’s platoon was in a good mood as they made their way back to camp, some laughing and joking, but most silent. These missions always posed a risk, because there was the possibility of coming under enemy fire.

Ian and Mickey were walking in comfortable silence, about a third of the way from the front of the group, and passing a cigarette back and forth as they enjoyed a brief respite from the rain.

Ian went to pass the cigarette to Mickey, and instead of meeting a hand, he met empty air. He frowned to himself, and turned around to look for his friend. A few feet back, Ian saw the older boy standing, frozen. ‘Mick? You okay?’ Ian asked, waiting for him to catch up.

Mickey lifted his head slowly, making as little movement as possible. He didn’t say anything, just stared at Ian for a few moments, before flicking his eyes back down and becoming fixed on his feet.

‘Mick?’ Ian repeated, moving back to his friend.

‘Don’t come closer,’ Mickey hissed. ‘Get the EOD.’

‘The EOD? What –’

‘Fucking do it, Ian!’ Mickey said, his voice sounding a lot weaker than he hoped it would.

Recognition dawned on Ian’s face. ‘Oh shit,’ he whispered. ‘I’ll be right back, don’t move, okay?’

‘Not fucking likely.’

Ian bit his lip and ran up ahead, being careful of his steps, to get the EOD and return to where Mickey hadn’t moved a fraction of an inch. ‘Mick? How are you doing?’ Ian asked, trying to distract him from the goings on at his feet.

‘I’m standing on a fucking explosive, how do you fucking _think_ I’m doing?’ Mickey snapped.

‘Don’t worry, Milkovich,’ the EOD – a little weedy dude called Marks – piped up, voice oddly cheery. ‘These are pretty simple to deactivate. Just stay calm, and stay still, and you’ll be fine.’

‘Yeah, well. Apologies if I’m not that enthusiastic about the idea of having a fucking bomb explode right next to my dick.’

Ian laughed, receiving a glare from Mickey. ‘Never know, Mick. Might be an improvement.’

‘How the fuck would shrapnel in my dick _improve_ it?!’

Ian was spared having to answer by a loud noise somewhere up ahead. ‘The fuck was that?’ Ian asked, looking down to Marks, seeing as loud noises were kind of his thing.

‘Aw fuck,’ Marks groaned, giving Mickey the all clear to move, and standing to brush dust off himself. ‘That was an armed Betty blasting someone _else_ in the dick.’

Ian and Mickey exchanged a glance, before saying simultaneously, ‘So that means...’

‘We just walked into Charlie’s front lawn, yeah,’ Marks nodded and got a good grip on his M-16. ‘Try to avoid stepping on any more Bettys, okay?’

‘Fuck off,’ Mickey said, narrowing his eyes. ‘But uh... thanks.’

‘It’s my job. If you’ll excuse me,’ Marks huffed out a breath before surging forwards, through the tall grasses, and disappearing from view.

After Marks had gone, Ian turned around and put a hand on Mickey’s shoulder. ‘You good?’

_Get over it, Mickey. You’re fine. No bomb. You’re fine._ ‘Yeah. Yeah, I’m good.’

Ian didn’t look convinced, but he seemed to accept it. ‘I’ll pretend to believe that. Just–’

_‘INCOMING!’_ someone ahead shouted.

‘For the love of fuck,’ Mickey groaned. ‘Just can’t catch a break today, can we?’

‘Yeah, looks like someone definitely wants us injured today,’ Ian muttered. ‘Or at least wants _you_ injured.’

‘They can go fuck themselves,’ Mickey said, swinging his M-16 into his hand, and running towards the frontline.

He could hear the sound of bullets zipping through the air, hitting grass, hitting bodies. Men cried out as they fell victim to enemy fire, or as they ran into traps – a few Bouncing Bettys went off, and Mickey knew there would be some punji traps filled with stakes, as well as bow traps for variety.

Fuck, Mickey hated war. He hated his father for sending him to war, hated _himself_ for not standing up and speaking out, or running away. Life here was difficult, and bloody, and miserable, but then again – his life at home had been similar. Both were warzones, one just had less mud and participants.

As more guys shouted out as the bullets continued to rain down upon them, Mickey hoped to God that Ian wasn’t one of the injured, screaming in pain like a siren going off, and alerting everyone to his position. He had lost track of the younger boy as they ran forwards to help their platoon, closer to where the enemy was, and more likely to be hit. It felt like hours since Mickey had seen Ian last, but it had only been a few minutes.

The concern he felt for Ian’s safety momentarily startled him. They were just friends, but Mickey’s interest in Ian’s welfare wasn’t unfounded. He was the closest thing to a best friend that Mickey had here, or _anywhere_. Of course he would be devastated if something happened to Ian. He would personally hunt down the bastard who hurt his friend, and again – Mickey wrote that off as normal. He was fiercely protective of his friends, and Ian was in his little circle now.

He shook the thought of Ian off, and pushed it away to be dealt with later. His first priority right now was making sure that _he_ didn’t get shot, himself. Mickey’s eyes darted around, trying to find a safe place to go to avoid being hit by bullets. Where the fuck were the bullets even coming from? Mickey couldn’t see anyone other than his army brothers, and they sure as fuck weren’t firing upon their own men.

Mickey’s eyes landed on a little mud hill, and he ran towards it, firing his M-16 blindly towards where Charlie was. Somewhere to his left at the moment, he thought. He ducked behind the hill and sneaked a glance up to see if he could spot any actual _people_ who were firing at them.

Somehow, he caught sight of a figure darting through the bushes. Not someone in army fatigues, but someone carrying a gun, zipping through the trees, and heading towards where the rest of his platoon was.

Instinct kicked in, and Mickey fired at the figure. Everything seemed to slow down slightly as Mickey watched his bullets pierce the body of the running man. They went cleanly through his arms and chest, one bullet also going straight through his neck. Blood burst through the wounds, and splattered against the foliage near him, his body falling to the ground with a thump that seemed to echo through Mickey’s head.

It felt like everything had frozen as Mickey watched and waited in vain for the man to get back up and continue running. Mickey didn’t even realise there was someone shaking his shoulder, until a voice faded in through his hazy mind. ‘Mick, we have to go. Mickey, get up.’

Mickey turned up to the speaker in confusion. _Oh, I’m Mickey. That’s right._ ‘Gallagher?’

Ian smiled a little, white teeth appearing in his mud covered face, as Mickey came back to himself. ‘We have to go, Mick.’

‘I have to help him,’ Mickey said, scrambling up and launching himself in the direction of where he had seen his victim fall.

‘No, Mick. He’s dead,’ Ian’s strong arms caught him around the middle and began hauling him off after the rest of their remaining platoon. ‘We have to go, come on.’

‘I...’ Mickey looked up to Ian’s face, and stopped struggling against his captor. ‘Where are we going?’

‘Back to our fighting bunker,’ Ian said. ‘Last night there. We go back to base tomorrow.’

Mickey nodded and followed Ian as they started walking back to where they had been camping out for the past week or so. Mickey didn’t know exactly how long it had been. He didn’t know how long he had been staring in the direction of that man’s body, either. ‘How many? Is Drew okay?’ he asked quietly.

‘Drew’s fine. How many what?’

‘How many did we lose?’

‘Five, I think. More were injured. This area seems to be pretty covered in traps. For some reason, Evans and Radar were at the back of the platoon,’ Ian explained. ‘Bettys went off, there were pits everywhere... Didn’t you hear?’

‘Wasn’t really concentrating,’ Mickey mumbled, frowning as they caught up with the rest of their platoon, as they turned onto a narrow hill path, jungle lining either side.

They ended up walking single file, Mickey in front of Ian, as they climbed the hill. Ian, of course, decided to start singing. Badly and out of tune, but with enough enthusiasm to get other guys to join in.

_‘When the night has come, and the land is dark, and the moon is the only light we’ll see,'_ Ian started softly. _‘No, I won’t be afraid, oh I won’t be afraid, just as long as you stand, stand by me.’_

‘I hate that song, Gallagher,’ Mickey said loudly. ‘Sing something else.’

Ian ignored him, singing louder, his voice mixing with those of the other singers. _‘So darlin’, darlin’, stand by me. Oh, stand by me. Oh, stand, stand by me. Stand by me.’_

‘At least sing quieter,’ Mickey groaned. ‘You’re going to draw attention to us.’

_‘If the sky that we look upon should tumble and fall, or the mountains should crumble to the sea. I won’t cry, I won’t cry, no I won’t shed a tear, just as long as you stand, stand by me,’_ Ian sang back.

Before he knew what had happened, Mickey was in the dirt. ‘The fuck, Gallagher?’ he asked, looking up and seeing the redhead on top of him. ‘Get off me, asshole.’

Ian blushed and got up, offering Mickey a hand. He frowned as Mickey slapped his hand away and stood of his own accord. ‘You hit another tripwire.’

Now it was Mickey’s turn to frown. ‘What?’

‘Bamboo whip,’ Ian said, gesturing to the spiked length of bamboo hanging across the path behind them. ‘Sorry I saved your life again.’

Mickey scowled at him. ‘Yeah, whatever, man.’ He brushed himself off, and continued up the hill.

A few moments later, Ian started singing again, catching up with the other guys. _‘Oh stand now, stand by me, stand by me. Whenever you’re in trouble won’t you stand by me, oh, stand by me.’_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> two things. first, the eod (which is basically bomb disposal btw) whose name is marks is not a reference to jmid??? i was reading that back and it fits the profile, but it's not a reference. and secondly, the song ian is singing is 'stand by me' by ben e. king (in case you were interested).
> 
>  
> 
> [come talk to me](http://im-not-his-keeper.tumblr.com/)


	7. The Tree

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well, shit. look at me being all ~on time~.

Ian couldn’t sleep that night.

It might’ve been the fact that the platoon’s scout dog, a German Shepherd named Radar, was whining, or that there was a huge lump under his spine, or that it was raining, and he had ended up drawing the short straw, meaning he was now sleeping under the leaky part of the bunker he shared with Mickey and Drew. There was a steady _plip plip plip_ coming down through a small hole right above his shoulder, and the water was spreading through the thin material of his shirt, making the rest of him wet, too.

Ian huffed in frustration and decided to try his luck and worm his way backwards, closer to Mickey, and out of his personal waterfall. As Ian squirmed further back, he thought it was a bit strange he hadn’t bumped into Mickey and received a strong slap across the back of his head yet. Ian frowned and flapped his arm back. It landed on Mickey’s bed. Mickey’s _empty_ bed.

‘Drew?’ Ian whispered.

‘What do you want, Gallagher,’ Drew replied, his voice clouded with sleep.

‘Where the hell is Mickey?’

‘Said he was going to take a piss about an hour ago.’

‘An hour ago? And you didn’t go look for him?’

‘Fuck off, it’s raining,’ Drew said grumpily. ‘Now shut the fuck up and leave me alone. Some of us need our beauty sleep.’

Ian rolled his eyes. ‘Sure. Let’s hope he didn’t try and take a shit and end up falling ass first into a punji trap.’

‘If he did, he’s probably dead by now,’ Drew mumbled.

‘Always the face of positivity,’ Ian muttered, crawling from their bunker. He couldn’t see anything much, but a few feet away, he spotted a rhythmic orange glow – the tip of a cigarette burning in the darkness. ‘Mickey?’ Ian asked.

It took a few moments, but Mickey answered. ‘What do you want, Gallagher?’

Ian walked over to sit beside him under the tree, giving a cursory glance up at the sky. _Stop fucking raining._ ‘Thought you didn’t have any cigarettes left?’ Ian asked, stealing Mickey’s and taking a short puff, noting his helmet beside him on the ground. Weird.

‘Don’t,’ Mickey replied. ‘They’re yours.’

Ian cracked a smile. ‘Shoulda guessed. Why’re you out here?’

‘Couldn’t sleep.’

‘No shit. What’s with the helmet? We don’t need to take them if we’re going seven feet away from a bunker.’

Mickey didn’t reply, but passed his helmet to Ian for his inspection.

Ian took the helmet, curious to see what he was supposed to be looking for. After a few moments, he found the small ballpoint pen inscription on the brim of the helmet. ‘Does that say “Born to Kill”?’ he asked. ‘Oh, Mick.’

‘Don’t you fucking say “ _Oh, Mick,_ ” in that tone to me, asshole,’ Mickey snarled.

‘I’m sorry,’ Ian said. ‘I didn’t mean anything by it.’

Mickey was silent, going through two more cigarettes before he started talking quietly again. ‘I’d never actually killed someone before, you know. I mean, I had inflicted enough injuries that might’ve ended up being fatal, and yeah, I’ve shot people before but... Never actually seen someone die right in front of me, when I was the cause.’

‘Really?’ Ian asked.

‘Yeah,’ Mickey took a long drag of his smoke and exhaled slowly. ‘But I feel sorry for that guy, I guess. He had a family and shit... Maybe his family actually cared about him.’

‘Maybe,’ Ian frowned. ‘Are you okay, man? You’re not being very... you.’

‘Just give me this, asshole,’ Mickey snapped. ‘How many people do you think you’ve shot here?’

‘Don’t know,’ Ian shrugged. ‘I’d like to think I’ve hit at least one, otherwise my ROTC training was fucking useless.’

‘Yeah, alright, whatever. But how many people have you actually seen die because of your actions?’

‘...None, I suppose.’

‘Fucking exactly.’

There was a moment of silence, where all Ian could hear was the rain dripping through the leaves above them. Then there was a little sniffing sound. ‘Are you crying?’

‘Fuck off,’ Mickey replied, voice thick.

Ian sighed and bumped his shoulder against Mickey’s. ‘We’re just doing our job, Mick.’

‘Fuck off,’ Mickey repeated. After a short pause, he said, ‘Tell anyone, and I’ll kill you in your sleep.’

Ian chuckled. ‘Your secret’s safe with me.’

‘Don’t believe you,’ Mickey mumbled, shaking Ian’s cigarette carton to find it was empty. He groaned and threw the box away, letting his arms hang limply at his sides, his fingers picking idly at the dirt.

‘I’ll let you in on one of my secrets then,’ Ian suggested.

‘Blackmail worthy?’

‘Yup. I’ll be kicked out of the army if anyone else finds out,’ Ian cleared his throat, and exhaled deeply, before whispering, ‘I ah... I’m a friend of Dorothy.’

‘You what?’

Ian rolled his eyes and tried again. ‘I’m a friend of Dorothy. You know...’

‘No, I don’t know, you fucking idiot,’ Mickey replied. ‘Didn’t get it the first time, still didn’t the second time.’

‘For fuck’s sake,’ Ian muttered, hanging his head in his hands. ‘I’m gay, okay?’

Mickey blinked _. No fucking way_. ‘You are?’ he croaked.

Ian misinterpreted Mickey’s question and pushed himself up to leave. ‘Shit, I’m sorry. Forget I said anything. I’ll go. I’m–’

‘Shut the fuck up and sit down,’ Mickey hissed. ‘I don’t care.’

‘You don’t?’ Ian asked, confused. ‘I thought...’

‘Since we’re being so fucking faggy and open right now,’ Mickey whispered sarcastically. ‘Me too.’ He didn’t know why he said it. It had taken him months, if not _years_ to admit it to Mandy, and here he was – throwing it out there without a second thought. Maybe it was the hope that Ian returned the feeling of something more than platonic friendship. Maybe Mickey was just being stupid.

‘You too, what?’ Ian frowned. ‘You’re gay? You?’

‘Wanna say that a bit louder? I’m not sure the Queen of England heard you clearly.’

‘Sorry. I just... I didn’t expect _you_ to... y’know. Be the same as me.’

Mickey rolled his eyes, his moment of vulnerability passing. ‘Yeah. Well. Not like it’s a choice or whatever gay shit you want to explain it with.’

‘I’m not judging, Mick,’ Ian said, raising an eyebrow. ‘You’re pretty anti-war, so if you’re... y’know... then why didn’t you use that to get out of coming here?’

‘Because if I had done that, my dad would’ve killed me himself, and personally, I preferred to take my chances in a war.’

‘Fair enough.’

Mickey was quiet for a little while, before he asked, ‘Think we’re gonna be doing any more Zippo missions?’

Ian nodded. ‘Probably.’

‘Great,’ Mickey laughed bitterly. ‘You probably think I’m stupid for being girly about killing some guy.’

‘Nah. I mean, it’s our job and all, but I think the first time you see the light fade from someone’s eyes because of you... It’s not easy, man,’ Ian sighed, and in a moment of... _something_ , grabbed Mickey’s hand softly. He felt Mickey’s hand tense, before it relaxed, and surprisingly, the pressure was returned. ‘Nine more months, Mick, then the turtles are here, and we’re out.’

‘Nine more months of stepping on explosives,’ Mickey grimaced. ‘I can barely contain myself with excitement.’

‘So that’s the other thing that’s got you down, huh?’ Ian asked, testing Mickey’s limits by gently rubbing his thumb across his friend’s tattooed knuckles.

‘Yeah,’ Mickey mumbled. ‘Sorry if I’m not a fan of almost getting my dick shredded.’

Ian chuckled. ‘It was bound to happen sooner or later, Mick. You’re just one of the lucky ones who heard it arm up.’

‘I suppose you’re right,’ Mickey leaned his head backwards against the tree trunk. ‘At home, my dad has guns and stuff, but at least there aren’t bombs on my floor.’

Ian was quiet for a little while, before eventually murmuring, ‘We should get some sleep. Gonna be a long day tomorrow.’

Mickey nodded. ‘Wouldn’t hurt to try. Oh, ah, I’m sorry I went through all your smokes.’

Ian shrugged, standing up and brushing dirt off his ass. ‘You needed them more than me. Don’t worry about it.’

‘Kay,’ Mickey yawned, standing and walking over to crawl inside the bunker after Ian. He waited until they were both settled, and he was convinced Drew was asleep before saying, ‘Thank you.’

Ian seemed to need no further explanation. ‘Any time.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [you know where to find me](http://im-not-his-keeper.tumblr.com/)


	8. To Hell and Back

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i know, it's an hour late. my laptop had a meltdown and hasn't been cooperating since i got out of the shower almost an hour and a half ago (tmi? probs) buT IT'S HERE NOW.

The first thing Mickey did when he got back to base was find himself a new carton of cigarettes.

After finishing off both his and Ian’s boxes while away from base, he had been craving them badly, even though it had been less than half a day. No one had wanted to share their dwindling supplies with him.

So Mickey went out, and Ian, of course, went with him.

Following their tree-side confessional, it had been kind of awkward, each knowing the other’s secret. However, it had brought them closer together – though Mickey was developing the thought that nothing would ever come of it. He was okay with that, he supposed. He didn’t want to bring this kid into his shitstorm of a life, where everything was dictated by what his father wanted him to do, and his every move and independent thought always came back to: _“What if Terry finds out?”_

Mickey’s hulk of a father knew exactly what buttons to push, and what strings to pull, to get Mickey to do what he wanted. Whether it was a snide comment here, or a thinly veiled threat there, or a hint at something happening to Mandy... Mickey always did what his father wanted, and he worried that maybe he was so encased in the mud and shit his father flung at him, that he would never be able to break free and do something _he_ wanted. At this point, the only thing that could free him would be Terry’s blood rusting through his chains.

Terry’s blood, or someone he loved with the intensity of a thousand burning suns. Mickey figured that if he found the right person, he would be willing to stand up to his father and risk his own death, because whether he succeeded and lived, or tried and died, either way – he would be free. Maybe there would be someone he would risk everything for.

Mickey didn’t think that person would be Ian, though. He put his attraction to the younger boy down to the fact that they were from the same place, Ian was good looking, and they were in close quarters most of the time. Something was bound to flare up eventually.

It didn’t stop Mickey from hoping and dreaming though.

 

* * *

 

Mickey got his cigarettes, and it was the happiest he had been since arriving in Vietnam. He ripped into the box, right in the middle of the street outside the shop, and pulled one out to light up almost immediately.

Ian laughed at his eagerness, and pulled one from Mickey’s box for himself. At Mickey’s scowl, Ian shrugged and said, ‘You went through my box, remember? Consider this payback.’

‘You’re not gonna smoke my entire pack, are you?’ Mickey asked, narrowing his eyes suspiciously and tucking the box securely into his pocket.

‘Nah, I’m quitting, I think,’ Ian said, inhaling deeply, before blowing a cloud of smoke out through his nose. ‘This is my last one.’

Mickey raised an eyebrow. ‘Oh yeah? I’d like to see you stick to that.’

‘Wanna bet on it, Milkovich?’ Ian grinned. ‘If I smoke again after this one, I’ll buy you ten packs when we get back to Chicago.’

‘Okay... What if you don’t? What do you want from me?’ _There’s gotta be a catch._

Ian’s grin spread wider. ‘If I don’t smoke again, I get to take you on a date when we get back.’

Mickey paled. ‘Don’t talk about that here.’

‘Are you saying you don’t accept my challenge?’

Smug little bastard. ‘No.’

‘No?’ Ian tilted his head and tapped the accumulating ash off his cigarette.

‘We have a deal,’ Mickey said before he could stop himself.

Ian seemed surprised. ‘Really?’

‘Yup,’ Mickey smirked. ‘Why, you backing down, Gallagher?’

‘Hell no, _Milkovich_.’

‘Good,’ Mickey flicked the top of his Zippo open and closed, as he and Ian had some weird sort of impromptu staring contest, while Drew rejoined them, coming back from wherever the fuck he had gone off to.

‘Me and Drew are gonna get ours engraved,’ Ian said suddenly, nodding towards Mickey’s lighter. ‘You wanna?’

‘Do I wanna what? Get my Zippo carved up?’ Mickey rolled his eyes. ‘No.’

Ian shrugged. ‘I am. See you later then, I guess.’

Mickey nodded and made his way back to base, watching Ian disappear into the throngs of people crowding the little market street. What-the-fuck-ever. Gallagher could get his Goddamn lighter engraved if he wanted. Mickey thought it was a stupid fucking idea.

But Ian was doing it, so maybe Mickey would too, no matter how stupid it seemed. He made his mind up, and went off in search of an engraver.

 

* * *

 

‘Where the fuck have you been, Mick?’ Ian asked, flicking his lighter open and closed as he lay on his cot and stared up at the ceiling.

‘Out,’ Mickey replied vaguely. ‘What’d you get on your Zippo?’

Ian smiled and tossed it to Mickey, who turned it over in his hands, reading the three inscriptions Ian had had made on it. On the top of the cap, the words _“To Hell and Back”_ were written. Mickey huffed a laugh. ‘Pretty sure you’re gonna make it out alive, huh?’

‘Positivity is key,’ Ian said simply.

‘Uh huh,’ Mickey replied, reading the other two inscriptions.

On one side of the main body, it said: _“Live by chance, love by choice, kill by profession”_. Mickey rolled his eyes. _Love by choice_. How... Gallagher. The other side had a phrase Mickey had considered, but deemed too long winded: _“Yea though I walk through the Valley of the Shadow of Death, I fear no evil because I’m the meanest motherfucker in the valley”_.

Mickey shook his head and tossed Ian his lighter back. ‘The meanest motherfucker, huh?’

‘Yup.’

‘Well, guess what?’

‘What?’

Mickey threw his own Zippo to Ian, who caught it easily. ‘Got mine done too.’

‘Yes, you did,’ Ian murmured, reading the top of the lighter: _“Fuck you”_. He glanced up at Mickey. ‘That an invitation?’ he asked.

‘Fuck off, Gallagher,’ Mickey said, flicking his eyes towards where Drew was lying in his cot, absorbed in a book, or something.

Ian grinned and read the other two Mickey had chosen. One side said: _“When I die, bury me face down so the whole world can kiss my ass”_ , and the other said: _“If you think sex is exciting, try incoming”_. Ian rolled his eyes and chucked it back to Mickey. ‘Lovely.’

‘You think?’

‘Very... cynical and sarcastic,’ Ian said thoughtfully. ‘A lot like you.’

‘That’s exactly what I was aiming for,’ Mickey grinned.

‘Well, you hit your mark, Mick.’

‘I got mine done too,’ Drew piped up. ‘Just in case anyone cares.’

‘Oh yeah?’ Mickey asked. ‘What’s it say, then?’

‘I only got two,’ Drew replied. ‘One on each side of the body. _“If you haven’t been there, shut the fuck up”_ and “ _Do unto others as they would do unto you, only do it first”_. Sounds nice and Bible-ish. My mom would approve.’

‘Man, you really love fucking with your parents’ heads, huh?’ Mickey replied.

Drew shrugged. ‘Do what I gotta to get my kicks.’

Mickey laughed. ‘Has there been any word on the turtles? I’m fucking ready to leave this hellhole.’

Ian shook his head. ‘Nothing yet.’

‘Fuck.’

‘Yeah.’

 

* * *

 

The next few months could be defined in two words: nightmare fuel.

Ian and Mickey went on several more raids, had many close calls with explosive and non-explosive booby traps alike, and got to witness the effects of Agent Orange. The defoliation chemical not only killed trees, but got into water systems and poisoned them, as well as the people who depended on them to survive. Of course, Napalm was used as well, but that had the tendency to be more anti-personnel than anything.

There were times when their platoon came under heavy fire, and Ian and Mickey thought that they had seen the last of their lives, and would return home in a wooden box.

One particular fight with the enemy ended with their platoon being vastly outnumbered. The smart ones hunkered down into the grasses and shot from low angles, but some of the guys decided that standing to take better aim was a good idea. Needless to say, a lot of those guys ended up getting shot.

Drew being one of them.

It wasn’t the shot that killed him, because he got shot in the shoulder, and not actually that close to any major organs. What killed him was the wound. Ian and Mickey took turns staying awake with him, clasping his hand so he knew they were there, as fever coursed through his body and the infection spread closer to his heart. The medic said there was nothing to be done for him, which left Ian and Mickey on their own, to make him comfortable however they could. It took four days for Drew to reach the thin line between life and death, and a few minutes before he crossed it, Mickey woke Ian and said, ‘Drew’s on his way out.’

They sat with him as the light left his eyes, and only later would they realise that Drew had been shot from behind, where there was no enemy. Apparently one of their own guys had taken it upon themselves to get rid of Drew, because they still saw him as a weakness. Ironic thing was, Drew wouldn’t have missed the heart from fifteen feet away.

It was not long after Drew had passed, that Ian and Mickey developed a habit of seeking each other out in the middle of the night following those exchanges of gunfire, and although all they did was sit under a tree and listen to the sounds of the other breathing, it was oddly comforting to know that there was someone who knew exactly what they were going through.

In the months leading up to the arrival of the turtles, they lost several more men from their platoon, with many more acquiring injuries, and therefore, scars. Ian and Mickey each gained a selection of new scars – from bullets skimming across the skin of their arms, or catching the tail end of a bamboo whip, or being a little bit too close to a Bouncing Betty, and the poor fucker who was unfortunate enough to set it off. They were never hurt badly – at least not physically.

Psychologically, they were somewhat on the rocks.

The nightmares started before they even left Vietnam. One of them – Mickey or Ian – would wake up in the middle of the night, covered in a thin sheen of sweat, and filled with a feeling of dread and fear. Maybe it was because the other had been having the same dream, or because they were close enough to each other to just _sense_ when shit was going down in the other’s mind, but when one had a bad dream, the other was always right there to convince him that was all it was, and that he should go back to sleep because in the morning it would be okay.

In the middle of a warzone, things were never okay in the morning. When you lived and dreamed the same thing all day, it was... less than ideal.

 

* * *

 

‘Come on, ladies! Let’s move faster!’ Darling roared, as he led the platoon through waist deep waters. ‘Let’s keep those widow makers dry! And Gallagher, shut the fuck up!’

Ian, who was once again singing, “Live For Today”, only seemed to be spurred on further by the comments of their lieutenant. _‘Sha-la-la-la-la-la, live for today.’_

They were up to the bridge of the song by now, and Mickey turned to tell Ian to shut up and stop imitating a dying cat right into his ear.

 _‘Baby, I need to feel you inside of me,’_ Ian sang, staring Mickey in the eyes. _‘I’ve got to feel you deep inside of me.’_

‘Gallagher, shut up,’ Mickey said, looking away. He was suddenly thankful of the fact that his face was covered in mud, because he could feel the blood rushing to his cheeks.

 _‘And baby, please come close to me. I’ve got to have you now please,’_ Ian replied, bumping his hip accidentally-on-purpose into Mickey’s. _‘Please, to gimme some-a lovin.’_

A good amount of the platoon had joined in by now, and most of them were near Mickey. Most of them also couldn’t sing. _‘To gimme some-a lovin’. Baby, gimme some-a lovin’.’_

 _‘I’ve got to have all your lovin’,’_ Ian cried, throwing his head back with the effort. _‘Well, I need all your loving, and now I need all your loving.’_

Mickey just rolled his eyes and fought the urge to push Ian’s head underwater.

 

* * *

 

The day they received their orders to go home a week later, Mickey and Ian thought they were dreaming. Replacements were arriving soon, which meant they were off the hook, and could go back home to Chicago and their families. Thank you, turtles.

They packed their shit into army-issue canvas bags, and a week later, they were on a plane and arriving back home, stepping foot on American soil for the first time in over a year.

 

* * *

 

Ian and Mickey sat next to each other on the bus.

They were being transported from their base, back to the spot they had first gotten onto the bus all those months ago. This time, they talked and joked, just fucking happy to still be alive. Mickey wondered idly if Terry would be disappointed he hadn’t died.

As they rounded the corner, back to their bus stop, Ian felt tears pricking in his eyes to see his entire family standing there, smoothing their clothes, and fixing each other’s hair. Like Ian was the Queen of England, rather than their brother. They must’ve heard the rumble of the bus coming up the street, because they all turned around, and seemed to be physically restraining themselves from buzzing in anticipation.

‘My sister is with your family,’ Mickey murmured, nodding towards a tall dark haired girl, standing amongst Ian’s siblings, next to Fiona.

‘She is, yeah. I wonder why.’

Mickey shrugged and jerked forward, almost slamming his head into the seat in front of him, as the bus came to a shuddering halt. He turned to Ian and grinned. ‘We’re home.’

‘Looks like my Zippo was right. To Hell and Back, huh?’

‘To Hell and Back,’ Mickey agreed.

They waited for everyone to get off the bus, before standing and climbing down the steps, and being swamped by emotional Gallaghers. Mickey was hauled into a hug by Mandy, and returned the embrace fiercely, while Ian was passed through his siblings – going from Fiona, to Lip, to Debbie, to Carl.

‘It’s good to have you home, kiddo,’ Fiona sniffed, keeping her hand on Ian’s arm, like she was afraid he would disappear, or float off, if she didn’t keep him anchored to the Earth.

‘It’s good to be home,’ Ian grinned, his voice cracking slightly towards the end of his sentence.

‘So you didn’t die, huh?’ Lip asked, clapping him on the shoulder.

‘Looks like it,’ Ian said, ruffling Lip’s hair, because he knew how much he hated when Ian did that.

‘Wanna go home?’ Fiona asked.

Ian nodded. ‘More than anything. Just give me a second?’

Fiona nodded. ‘Lip, Carl, go get Ian’s bag.’

Lip and Carl went in one direction, while Ian went in the other to find Mickey.

As he approached the pair, Ian heard Mickey ask his sister, ‘Did dad...’ Mandy’s bottom lip trembled slightly, and that was all Mickey needed to know. ‘Are you okay?’

‘Yeah, I’m okay. Got him with my knife, just like you told me to,’ Mandy said proudly. ‘When he came to, I told him that he got it in a fight with someone.’

Mickey nodded. ‘Good. Fucker deserves more than a couple slashes.’

‘Mick,’ Ian greeted, interrupting their conversation.

‘Gallagher!’ Mickey said, pulling Ian into one armed hug. ‘This is my little sister, Mandy.’

‘Good to meet you,’ Ian smiled.

The girl blinked at him, before reaching up and folding him into her arms. ‘You’re Ian? Thank you for keeping my brother alive.’

Ian smiled. ‘You’re welcome. He saved my ass a few times, so I was just returning the favour.’

‘Well, I’m glad you did.’

‘Me too,’ Ian nodded, turning back to Mickey and stepping out of Mandy’s arms. ‘So, uh, I’m going home. But we’ll see each other again, yeah?’

‘Yeah, man. Of course,’ Mickey said. He seemed to battle with something internally, before he pulled Ian into a tight hug. ‘Thanks, man. For everything.’

Ian smiled into Mickey’s shoulder. ‘Same to you, Mick.’

‘Ian? You done?’ Fiona called.

‘Yeah, Fi. One sec,’ Ian replied. He let go of Mickey and rubbed the back of his neck. ‘See you round, Milkovich.’

‘Yeah, you too, Gallagher.’

Ian nodded, turning back towards Fiona, before a shout from Mickey stopped him.

‘Hey, Gallagher?’

‘Yeah?’ Ian said turning to see Mickey jogging to catch up to him.

‘Mickey is short for Mikhailo.’

Ian grinned. ‘I like it,’ he said, saluting Mickey and rejoining his family, as they walked off, up the street and into the distance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i _did_ say it was only a minor character death. anyhoo, we get into the GOOD stuff next chapter. aka, no more war. oh and it turns out i didn't put in anything else about radar and evans, but during one of my many research... things... i discovered scout dogs. and i love dogs. so i gave their platoon a scout dog, aka radar, and his handler, evans. so there's that.
> 
> [tumblr](http://im-not-his-keeper.tumblr.com/)


	9. What Happens in the Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you came here from my (way too regular) tumblr updates for this fic, then you may already know this. for anyone else, the title is not a sex thing. like, at all. pretty much the opposite, actually.

The first night Mickey woke up screaming, Mandy came running into his room with a baseball bat extended behind her shoulder, poised and ready to swing. She looked around his room in confusion, seeing that he wasn’t battling with an intruder – he was fighting his own memory.

Mandy lowered the bat and sat on the edge of Mickey’s bed, putting a hand gently on his arm. ‘Mickey?’

Mickey flinched away from her hand, and turned onto his back, looking up at her with panic stricken features. ‘Mandy?’

‘Are you okay?’ she asked softly.

‘I...’ Mickey’s eyes moved around the room. ‘I’m home.’

‘Yeah.’

‘I... I thought...’ Mickey sniffed. ‘I’m okay, go back to bed.’

‘You sure?’

Mickey nodded. ‘I’m fine.’

‘Okay,’ Mandy said, standing up. ‘Call me if you need anything.’

‘Yeah, alright. Night, Mandy.’

‘Night, Mick.’

He wouldn’t tell her how he had been dreaming of standing at the edge of a village, watching as houses burned, and listening to the screams of people trapped inside them.

 

* * *

 

Ian could still remember the sound a spiked, clay ball made as it collided with the head of a guy in his platoon. He could still see the mangled mess it had left behind, and he could feel the life draining out of the guy’s body, as he became dead weight in Ian’s arms.

It had been months, and he could remember it like it was yesterday.

His eyes flew open, as tossed his blankets off and ran for the bathroom, throwing himself at the toilet, and painting the inside of the bowl with whatever had been in his stomach. He threw up until his throat felt raw, and he was just dry retching.

‘Ian?’ Fiona’s voice drifted through the door he had somehow managed to shut. ‘You okay?’

‘Fine,’ his voice was scratchy and it hurt to speak.

‘You need anything? A glass of water?’

‘Yeah.’

He heard Fiona walk downstairs and the creak of the pipes as water rushed through them. A few seconds later, Fiona was back at the door saying, ‘Can I come in?’

‘Mm,’ Ian replied, still clinging to the cold porcelain.

Fiona opened the door quietly, and handed him the glass as she sat on the edge of the bath. ‘Do you want to talk about it?’

Ian shook his head. He wiped his mouth and took a sip of the water. ‘It’s nothing.’

‘No, it’s not.’

‘Fi–’

‘Ian, it’s okay. You don’t have to tell me what it was, but you don’t need to lie to me. I can see right through you.’ She sighed and scooted closer, stretching out her hand to rub circles on Ian’s back. ‘If there’s something bothering you, you can always come to me.’

Ian smiled weakly at her. ‘I know. I just don’t think you want to know what I was dreaming about.’

Fiona nodded. ‘Something that happened while you were in Vietnam?’

‘Yeah,’ Ian muttered. He shut his eyes and leaned his head against his forearm, which was on top of the toilet seat. ‘It was.’

Fiona sighed again. ‘I wish I could take some of your memories away, so you wouldn’t have to bear them alone.’

Ian laughed. The action hurt his throat. ‘Trust me, if you could see into my head, you wouldn’t want my memories,’ he said, standing up slowly. ‘I’m going back to sleep. Thanks for the water.’

‘No problem,’ Fiona smiled, standing with him. ‘Is it okay for me to give you a hug?’ Ian nodded, and Fiona stepped forward to wrap her arms around her brother. ‘Just remember that you’re home now, and nothing can hurt you here.’

‘Nothing can hurt me here,’ Ian echoed.

‘Nothing,’ Fiona kissed his cheek and released him. ‘Go to bed, and call out if you need me. Promise?’

‘Promise.’

‘Okay. Good night, Ian.’

‘Night, Fi.’

 

* * *

 

Mickey never really slept anymore. He tried to avoid it as much as he could, because when he went to sleep – got comfy on his tiny bed, nestled into his blankets and shut his eyes – the memories would come uninvited into his mind. He got into the habit of drinking a few shots of vodka before bed, because they at least helped to soften the heavy blows his mind inflicted on itself. He got the bare minimum amount of sleep, and consumed himself with working and earning money so he could get the fuck out of his dad’s house, and take Mandy with him.

Mickey had tried to avoid having Terry find out about his nightmares, and managed to hide them relatively well, until one night, Terry walked through his room to use the bathroom, right as Mickey started having a nightmare. Terry walked back through into Mickey’s room a few minutes later, to find Mandy sitting beside him with her arms around his shoulders, holding Mickey as he trembled and tried to regain control of his shuddering breathing.

Terry took one look at his daughter and youngest son, and said, ‘The fuck’s wrong with you?’

‘Nightmare,’ Mickey muttered.

‘What’s that?’

‘Nightmare,’ Mickey repeated louder.

‘Nightmare? Hah. Grow a pair of balls. If you’re shaking because of a nightmare, you’re not a Milkovich,’ Terry scowled at them and left the room, probably going to fall back into a less-than-sober slumber.

Mickey waited until his door had swung shut before he spoke into the darkness. ‘Maybe that wouldn’t be a bad thing.’

‘Don’t listen to him, Mick,’ Mandy murmured.

‘I stopped listening to him years ago,’ Mickey replied. ‘We gotta get outta this house, Mands.’

‘I know,’ Mandy nodded. ‘I have some money saved up. We should start looking for somewhere to share.’

Mickey bit his lip. ‘Are you sure?’

‘Yes, absolutely,’ Mandy nodded resolutely. ‘Anywhere is better than here. For both of us.’

Mickey hummed in agreement. ‘We start looking tomorrow, is that okay?’

Mickey could feel Mandy smiling against his shoulder, before she said, ‘Thought you’d never ask.’

 

* * *

 

‘Ian?’ Fiona called softly through the door. ‘Are you okay?’

Ian made no move to respond – he knew Fiona would leave him alone, sooner or later. Instead, he just curled tighter into a ball, letting out a small whimper as his mind flashed back to the dream he had been having.

It had felt so real.

Ian could feel the suffocating humidity surrounding him, could feel the sweat gathering on the back of his neck, and feel the crunch of leaves beneath his boots. He could smell the damp earth, and smoke that drifted towards him through the trees. In front of him walked Radar, sniffing for explosives or trap. In the distance, he could see orange. Bright, flickering orange. Ian could hear the flames crackling, even from this distance. They intermingled with the screams of people watching their houses go up in smoke, and the wails of agony as those trapped inside were burnt alive. It seemed like the villagers had been caught unawares by the less compassionate in his platoon.

Ian could still hear Mickey beside him, cursing at the stupid boys who had started it.

Ian wondered where Mickey was now, and if he was okay. Ian hoped Mickey had gotten away from his dad.

He cleared his mind and thought of Mickey, wondering what his life might be like now. If he had the same dreams as him. Ian didn’t want to go back to sleep tonight, and maybe Mickey could help keep him awake.

 

* * *

 

‘You liked him, didn’t you?’ Mandy asked, sitting cross legged on the bare floor of the tiny apartment they had managed to find.

‘Liked who?’ Mickey asked, dumping a box beside his sister.

‘That redhead you came back with.’

‘Gallagher?’ Mickey shrugged. ‘He was my best friend.’

Mandy raised her eyebrows incredulously. ‘Where was he from?’

‘Southside,’ Mickey said taking his army Zippo from his back pocket and twirling it in his fingers, rubbing his thumb absentmindedly over the “ _Fuck You_ ” inscription.

‘Chicago?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Why don’t you go find him then? You need more friends, Mick.’

‘Fuck off. I have enough friends.’

‘The guys you work with don’t count as friends,’ Mandy said, watching as Mickey continued playing with his lighter. ‘Can you stop that? It’s reflecting sun into my eyes.’

‘Sorry,’ Mickey muttered, shoving it back into his pocket. ‘Nervous habit.’

‘Nervous habit? Nervous about what?’

Mickey bit his lip before standing abruptly and picking up a box labelled “ _Mickey’s shit_ ” and stalking off towards his small bedroom, kicking his door shut.

Mandy blinked, before saying to the completely empty room, ‘Never mind then.’

 

* * *

 

Ian felt great. Like, he felt fucking _fantastic._ He had masses of ideas that could become something great – like starting a Gallagher family band. He could learn guitar, Debbie and Carl could be singers, and Fiona could play drums or something. They would be unstoppable, and take over the charts. They could be famous, and rich, and leave the Southside behind them.

However, that idea was quickly dismissed as Ian came up with so many other ideas that were better than each one before. He could learn a sport, or write a book, or build a car from scratch. The possibilities were endless, because Ian was on top of the world and there was not a single thing that could get him down.

Except his own biology.

The day the Gallaghers woke up to find Ian still in bed, things came to a standstill. Ian didn’t move, didn’t say anything apart from “ _Go away_ ” and barely had any food or drink. The Gallaghers had no idea how to fix this, so they did their best to take care of him, no matter how uncooperative he became.

Of course, their mom had been the same before she ran away for San Francisco, so they figured Ian had manic depressive illness as well. It took a while for Ian to start getting a little bit back to normal – eating, drinking, showering...

As soon as he was up and talking, and somewhat how he used to be, or at least better than he had been the past couple of weeks, the Gallaghers made the decision to have him treated for the same as Monica.

Ian didn’t like it, but he understood.

They couldn’t afford to lose him just as they had Monica.

 

* * *

 

_‘And so we’re running just as fast as we can, holding on to one another’s hands. Trying to get away into the night and then you put your arms around me as we tumble to the ground and then you say...’_

_‘Jesus, Gallagher. Shut the fuck up.’_

_‘Sing it, Mick!’ Ian said, poking him in the arm and grinning widely._

_‘Fuck off, I ain’t singing for nobody,’ Mickey replied, rolling his eyes to show his annoyance, but smiling all the same._

_‘You know you know the words...’_

_‘Yeah, but I ain’t singing, Gallagher!’_

_‘Rude,’ Ian sighed dramatically, before launching back into song. ‘I think we’re alone now, there doesn’t seem to be anyone around. I think we’re alone now, the beating of our hearts is the only–’_

_‘FUCK!’ someone ahead cried. ‘Holy fucking shit!’_

_Ian and Mickey exchanged a glance and moved stealthily forwards to see what happened. ‘Oh fucking Jesus,’ Ian muttered, looking down to where one of their guys (what was his name? Richards?) was lying slumped on the ground, a few other guys around him, all swearing and making no effort to stop the blood pumping from his chest._

_‘Fuck them swinging man traps,’ one of the other guys – Wilson – muttered, shaking his head as he grasped his buddy’s hand._

_‘Don’t tell me no lies, man,’ Richards gasped. ‘I’m gonna die, ain’t I?’_

_‘Yeah, man,’ Wilson nodded. ‘You are.’_

_‘Tell my mama I love her, mm?’ Richards coughed as blood dribbled from the corner of his mouth, his eyes flicking down to the messy hole where he had been impaled. ‘Tell her.’_

_‘I will, man. I will.’_

_‘I love her a lot. And tell my girl... Tell her... I was gonna marry her.’_

_‘I’ll tell her.’_

_‘I love...’ Richards gasped for air, his eyes moving frantically across the faces of the men standing above and around him, before they rolled back into his head and his hand went limp._

_Wilson hung his head, taking a shuddery breath, and muttering a prayer._

_‘INCOMING!’ Darling yelled. ‘Get your guns out, boys!’_

_‘Shit!’ Ian said, diving for the side of the path and curling into a little ball, gun positioned and ready to fire. ‘Mick! Get your ass over here!’_

_Mickey shook his head, and moved into action, feeling a bullet zip past his head, so close he felt the wind on his neck._

 

* * *

 

Mandy had never heard her brother scream so loud.

She was used to small bouts of yelling from his nightmares, but he would always stop after a few moments, then call out and say he was okay, or she would go into his room to find him curled into a ball in amongst his sheets, a damp patch under his face from where his tears had fallen.

Mickey had been screaming for over a minute, and Mandy thought that maybe this wasn’t from a nightmare. She picked up her bat – just like she had when Mickey had screamed in his sleep the first time – and walked carefully into his room.

Just like the first time, Mickey was alone in his room, thrashing against his mattress. ‘Fuck! Ian!’ he cried between bouts of screaming. ‘Fuck!’

‘Mickey?’ Mandy asked tentatively. ‘Mickey, are you okay?’

_‘I don’t wanna die!’_ Mickey sobbed. His eyes were clenched tightly, and his hands were curled into his sheets as he continued screaming and crying. ‘I don’t wanna die!’

Mandy put her bat down, leaning it against the doorway, and stepped into her brother’s room. ‘Mickey, wake up,’ He continued sobbing, and whimpering, but seemed to have stopped moving, so Mandy chanced putting her hand carefully on his arm.

Mickey’s fist flew up and decked Mandy in the face, and she staggered back, clutching her eye. She had had worse, and was used to the pain, so she only swore quietly and frowned before going back to her brother.

‘Mickey, wake up,’ she said calmly. ‘Wake up.’

Mickey just whimpered, more tears falling.

‘Oh, Mickey,’ Mandy sighed, and left to get a glass of water for him. When she came back, Mickey’s hands had relaxing from their grip on the sheets, and his breathing had evened out. ‘Mickey?’ she tried again.

‘Mm,’ Mickey mumbled, opening an eye slowly to look at his sister. ‘What.’

‘You were having a bad dream again,’ Mandy said, sitting on his bed and passing him the water as he sat up. ‘You okay?’

‘Fuck do you think?’

‘Yeah, alright,’ Mandy rolled her eyes and stood back up. ‘When you’re ready to talk about it, you know where I am.’

 

* * *

 

Mickey didn’t go see her that night, but when he woke up and wandered into the kitchen for breakfast, he saw his sister sitting at the table, coffee in one hand and cigarette in the other. ‘Woah, what happened to your face?’

‘Hmm?’ Mandy asked, apparently distracted.

‘Your eye?’ Mickey asked, frowning.

‘Oh,’ Mandy smiled lightly, as if she had forgotten it was there.

‘What happened?’

‘You had a bad dream last night.’

‘ _I_ punched you in the face?’ Mickey asked, his eyes widening.

Mandy shrugged. ‘It’s not like it hasn’t happened before.’

‘I’m sorry, Mands. I’m so sorry. I didn’t–’

‘I know. Don’t worry.’

‘Don’t worry? I punched you in the face!’

‘It’s okay, Mick. I know it wasn’t on purpose.’

‘I’m sorry, Mands. I’m so sorry.’

‘Don’t worry about it. My fault for trying to wake you, I guess,’ she passed him her cigarette and took a long sip of coffee. ‘What were you dreaming of?’

Mickey bit his lip. ‘Can’t remember,’ he lied.

Mandy raised her eyebrow, but didn’t press the matter further, and Mickey was thankful for that. It was one thing to relive that sort of crap in your dreams, but quite another to willingly give it light in consciousness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the song ~dream ian~ is singing ("and so we're running just as fast as we can...") is 'i think we're alone now' by tommy james & the shondells. just btw, if you don't know any of the songs i'm referencing, i'm gonna be publishing a playlist on 8tracks when this is finished that has them all c:
> 
>  
> 
> [come talk to me](http://im-not-his-keeper.tumblr.com/)


	10. Containment

‘Ian, you need to get out more,’ Lip said, flopping down onto his brother’s couch and taking the beer offered to him.

‘No, I don’t,’ Ian frowned as he took the seat next to him.

‘Come on, man! When was the last time you left your apartment?’

‘This morning. I got some fruit.’

Lip rolled his eyes and rephrased the question. ‘When was the last time you left that wasn’t to get food or go to work?’

‘Last week,’ Ian lied. In actuality, he hadn’t left his apartment for at least two weeks for anything other than food or work. He didn’t like the way people stared at him, like they could see inside his mind, and were sorting through his memories of everything he’d seen and done in the past year, and they were silently judging him because of it.

‘You, Ian Clayton Gallagher, are a dirty great liar,’ Lip said, poking him in the arm. ‘Go out tonight, okay? I’ll go with you, if you want, and we can go down to the Alibi or something.’

‘The Alibi?’ Ian asked. ‘Haven’t been there in months.’

‘I know. You up for it?’

‘Will you leave me alone if say yes?’

‘I suppose.’

‘Then yes, I’ll meet you there at seven. That work for you?’

‘I can make it work.’

‘Good,’ Ian said, taking his notebook out from where it was wedged between the arm of the couch, and one of the cushions.

‘Whatcha working on?’ Lip asked, sipping his beer and watching as Ian stared down at the page, pen in hand and tapping against his chin.

‘None of your business,’ Ian said absently, scribbling down a few words and frowning at them.

‘Is it a poem? A book? A play?’ Lip pressed.

Ian turned to him and narrowed his eyes. ‘It’s going to be your fucking eulogy if you’re not careful.’

 

* * *

 

Ian hadn’t made a habit of going out after he’d come back from his time with the army. He had become noticeably withdrawn and distanced from those around him, and although they didn’t know why he was doing it, they could take a stab at guessing.

Fiona mostly left Ian to himself, now that she had a boyfriend who was keeping her busy and entertained. The kids – who weren’t really kids anymore, because Carl and Debbie were both into their teenaged years – also realised something was up with him, but they didn’t think there was anything they could do to help, so they just gave him reassuring glances, and comforting pats on the arm whenever they felt it was necessary.

It seemed to make Ian feel more at ease, so they continued doing it, because they didn’t like the way their older brother looked around like a small child, lost in a crowd of giants and unable to find a parent that could guide him.

Lip, it seemed, was the only person in Ian’s family who was trying to help him. He encouraged him to go out and find a job, to take up some hobbies, and make friends. He seemed apprehensive when Ian decided to get his own apartment, but even Lip had to admit that giving Ian some room – some space to actually _breathe_ in – was a good idea.

Although it seemed Ian was a bit better, he never actually went out. Lip knew his brother was a very social person – easy going and charismatic, people flocked to him and his contagious smile – and containing himself to his apartment was maybe contributing to his growing unhappiness.

Lip was actually quite surprised that Ian had given in so easily to go out for a drink, because he was expecting a firm and resounding “No”. Nevertheless, he made sure to get to the Alibi on time, and waited at the bar for Ian to arrive, ordering drinks from Kev in the meantime.

Ian had debated whether to actually go have a few drinks with Lip or not, but decided that if he didn’t go, then Lip would be back on his ass about going out, and he would be back with a vengeance. And so, he changed into some clean clothes, grabbed his keys, and went to meet Lip at the Alibi.

 

* * *

 

‘Hey, man, didn’t think you’d show up,’ Lip said, sounding surprised as Ian slid into onto the seat next to him.

‘Me neither,’ Ian muttered.

Lip signalled for the bartender, the Gallaghers’ friend and neighbour, Kev. ‘Two beers?’

Kev nodded and went straight to pouring the two drinks, putting them down in front of the pair and giving Ian a warm smile. ‘How you doing, Ian? Haven’t seen you around here for a while.’

‘I haven’t really felt much up to just going out,’ Ian said, taking a sip of his beer.

‘Yeah, I get what you’re saying. Stop by any time, man. We miss ya ‘round here,’ Kev smiled again, before wandering off to collect glasses and wipe tables. Or something.

They sat in a somewhat awkward silence for a few minutes, before Ian cleared his throat and addressed his brother. ‘So how’s everything going with your life?’

Lip took a deep breath before he launched into a lengthy description of how his current girlfriend was wanting to get engaged and buy a house, which Lip did _not_ want to do. ‘I’m more of a drifter, you know? I don’t like being tied down too much, and I was on the cusp of breaking up with her when she said she wanted to settle down.’

Ian made a noise of agreement, and that seemed to be all the encouragement that Lip needed, before he continued to regale Ian with his tales of the unfortunately-not-so-single life for the next half hour. Ian wasn’t really listening, though he did tune in when Lip told him how Karen had had a pregnancy scare, and Ian outright started laughing at him, because seriously? Lip? With a kid? Now? No doubt Lip would be a good dad, because he was great with the two youngest Gallaghers, but Lip was still stuck in his teenage years, and Ian knew he wouldn’t want to let that go for a few years. Not unless he found _“the one”_.

Eventually, Lip stopped talking with a sigh. ‘Man, I should go. Karen’s gonna be on my ass if I’m not back soon.’

‘Yeah, alright,’ Ian said, tapping his finger against the side of his glass. ‘You go, I’ll stay here for a bit longer.’

‘Okay,’ Lip said, standing up and slapping Ian amicably on the shoulder. ‘It was good talking with you, man. I really missed you. We should do this again sometime.’ Ian nodded as enthusiastically as he could, though that just made Lip roll his eyes. ‘Whatever. See you, man.’

‘Bye, Lip,’ Ian said, waving half heartedly at his brother’s retreating figure. He sighed and stared into his mostly empty glass of beer.

The bar was quiet, as it usually was for nearly nine o’clock on a Tuesday night, and Ian decided he would rather be in a quiet bar than a quiet apartment, because at least there were other people there. However, he soon realised there was only so much silence one could take before going marginally insane, no matter where one experienced it.

Ian heard the door swing open, and saw from the corner of his eye that one of the seats further down the bar was now occupied. He didn’t care. It was just another person for him to add to the list of those ignoring him as _“baby killer”_ chanted in their heads like a warning signal.

‘Shot of whiskey,’ the man said quietly, rubbing his hands through his hair and letting out a deep sigh. A glass hit the top of the bar, and he said, ‘Keep ‘em coming, Kev. I ain’t getting any younger.’

Ian frowned. That quiet voice struck a chord somewhere in the back of his mind. He sneaked a glance out the corner of his eye, and almost laughed to himself in surprise. Apparently he wasn’t fast enough to stop that initial response, because he snorted quietly and shook his head.

‘What?’ the dark haired man asked, spinning in his chair to stare at Ian. ‘Something funny to you?’

Ian shrugged, staring straight ahead at the bar in front of him, and the other man went back to his drink. Ian picked up his beer and walked the few steps down the bar to stand beside the brunet. ‘Come here often?’ he asked.

The man didn’t look up from where he was stared at the grains of the bar’s wooden surface. ‘Fuck off, I ain’t falling for that.’

A small smile formed on Ian’s lips as he said, ‘Oh really, Milkovich?’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [i love hearing from you so come talk to me~](http://im-not-his-keeper.tumblr.com/)


	11. Shatter Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter title from song of the same name by lindsey stirling.

‘How’d you–’ Mickey started, his head shooting up. ‘Gallagher?’

Ian’s smile turned into a full blown grin. ‘Hey, Mick.’

‘Holy shit!’ Mickey exclaimed. He stood and pulled Ian into a tight embrace. ‘What the fuck are you doing down here?’

‘My brother got me to come out and have a few drinks with him,’ Ian said, letting go of Mickey after a few moments. ‘What are you doing here?’

‘This is my bar, man,’ Mickey shrugged. ‘You want a drink?’

‘I’m good with water,’ Ian replied. ‘How’s everything going with you? You been good since we got out the army?’

‘You guys were in the army together?’ Kev asked, bringing over Ian’s water and a beer for Mickey.

‘Yeah,’ Ian nodded.

‘Gingerbread here kept me from dying most days,’ Mickey said, elbowing Ian in the ribs. He cleared his throat and took a gulp of his beer. ‘Almost... almost got bamboo whipped a few times without him.’

‘Couldn’t let my best friend die, now, could I?’ Ian asked quietly.

Mickey laughed sadly and mumbled something that sounded like, ‘Might’ve been better if you had,’ before he took another sip of his beer.

Kev blinked and said, ‘Right,’ then went off to serve a few guys down the other end of the bar.

Ian coughed. ‘So I take it you’re not doing as great as you want people to think either, huh.’

Mickey raised his eyebrows. ‘You wanna expand on that?’

‘Nightmares, the terrors, the fear that any step could be your last... That kind of thing.’

Mickey nodded. ‘And washing it down with enough alcohol to drown yourself in.’

‘Yeah,’ Ian sighed. ‘I moved out of home a few months ago so I wouldn’t scare the shit out of my family with all the screaming and... y’know. Other stuff.’

‘I punched my sister in the face while I was asleep and gave her a black eye because I thought she was going to kill me. It’s happened more than once, and all she does is give me this look of pity. I hate it,’ Mickey said, taking yet another gulp of his beer.

‘You still at home?’ Ian asked, sipping his water.

Mickey shook his head. ‘Nah, man. Me and Mandy moved out about three months after we got back.’

‘You’re happy, though?’

‘As happy as you can be with everything... y’know...’ Mickey waved vaguely at his head. ‘But I’ve been worse, so yeah. I’m happy.’

‘That’s good,’ Ian smiled. ‘I was worried about you, you know.’

‘That’s a bit gay of you, Gallagher,’ Mickey murmured, glancing sideways at him, eyebrow creeping into his hairline.

‘Yeah... Well...’ Ian shrugged. ‘Makes sense, doesn’t it?’

Mickey laughed. ‘Yeah, I suppose it does, huh?’

Ian grinned. ‘But I hoped you were safe and not going through the same thing as me.’

‘Man, I was going through the same thing as you before we even left the Goddamn army.’

‘I know. I was there.’

Mickey’s smile dropped as he let out a sigh. ‘Yeah. I could really use your optimism sometimes.’

Ian rolled his eyes. ‘My optimism has taken a hit recently.’

‘How?’

‘Don’t worry.’

‘I do worry, man. You’re in my circle.’

Ian peered incredulously at him over the rim of his glass. ‘Thought the circle was only true for where war is concerned?’

‘Nah, man. The Milkovich inner circle is a permanent thing.’

‘Oh.’

They exchanged a long look at each other, before Mickey broke their impromptu staring contest and smiled into his beer. ‘I gotta get home. I work early tomorrow.’

‘Yeah, I should probably get going, too,’ Ian nodded. ‘But uh, when are you free next? I can buy you a drink next time.’

‘You only had water. You don’t needa buy me a drink, Gallagher.’

‘What if I want to?’ Ian murmured, tilting his head slightly. ‘Besides, remember our deal?’

‘What deal?’ Mickey asked, slipping off his seat and pulling his coat on.

‘I haven’t had a cigarette since the day we got our Zippos engraved.’

‘So..?’ Mickey paused, studying Ian’s face as he tried to remember. ‘Oh.’

‘Remember?’

‘I remember,’ Mickey said slowly.

‘My offer is still on the table. Unless you’re...’

Mickey shook his head. ‘No,’ _Of course not_ , he wanted to say. _I was hoping you would find me._ ‘You don’t either?’

‘Nothing. I was holding out in case I ran into you,’ Ian smiled. ‘And now I have.’

‘And now you have,’ Mickey agreed.

 

* * *

 

The last thing Mickey had been expecting when he walked into the Alibi was to find Ian Gallagher there. Of course, he wouldn’t even have realised Ian was there if he hadn’t made himself known to Mickey by trying his luck with a shitty pick up line.

Mickey’s mood had changed instantly, like it always would when Ian was near. He had always had a calming effect on Mickey’s mind, and it felt like everything that had been weighing heavily on his thoughts recently had just melted away, because Ian was here, and everything would be okay now.

Ian, with his clear, green eyes, and his stupid red hair, had found him. Mickey hoped that maybe now Ian was here, and seemingly interested in him, that something might happen.

It was a long shot, but still, he hoped.

He always hoped.

 

* * *

 

Before leaving the Alibi, Ian and Mickey had arranged to meet up the next night at the bar again. They had almost a year of each other’s lives to catch up on, though when they got to the Alibi, claimed a booth and sat nursing their respective drinks, they found that they didn’t end up doing very much talking.

It was more that they were happy to just sit in silence for the majority of the time, only occasionally exchanging words, because it was enough to just know that the other was _there_ again. Their words were mostly meaningless, though, because the only thing they felt like they needed to talk about shouldn’t be given any time in the light. Their darkest fears and nightmares were something to be discussed only behind closed doors, and with a bottle of strong liquor in their hands.

At the end of their drinks date, they decided to meet up the next night, because the world felt a little less bleak now that they had access to each other again.

They continued that way for a few weeks. Going to the Alibi, ordering drinks, and sitting with their thoughts. There was a certain comfort in the eyes of the other, and it meant that they could feel the darkness lifting a little bit each time that they sat down at their booth.

Even though they said little, Mickey could feel himself beginning to get lost in Ian. The way he smiled when he saw Mickey sitting in their booth when he arrived at the bar, drinks already on the table. How he would trace little shapes and patterns into the condensation forming on the side of his glass, seemingly without even realising he was doing it. How Ian would put his hand lightly on Mickey’s arm, or knee, as if he could sense what he was thinking about, and whether or not that required some form of reassurance.

Mickey found himself counting how many different colours Ian’s hair became when he shifted so that the fluorescent light overhead filtered through. He counted how many freckles he could find on Ian’s skin – his hands, his arms, his face and neck – and he wondered if any of them could be made into constellations.

Mickey wondered what Ian saw when he looked at him.

 

* * *

 

To Ian, Mickey was like the ocean. His eyes were definitely blue enough for it.

Not only that, but Mickey had the temperament of the sea – calm and reserved at times, but Ian knew from experience that Mickey could get riled up and would thrash everything in sight, taking no prisoners, and giving no mercy.

Ian would dive into Mickey. He would forgo all options at being pulled from the depths, because he was already tumbling in the undercurrents, and getting pushed down by the roiling waves above him. He wouldn’t fight his lack of oxygen, he would be thankful for it, and savour the burn in his lungs, if it meant he would be in Mickey’s bed, arms, or even just his life.

Mickey was an ocean, and Ian wanted nothing more than to drown in him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> either one of my betas cried at the ocean metaphor or i did. i definitely did. fucking mooshy, fluffy writing music. (damn you, echelon effect.)


	12. Take Me to Church

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter title from song of the same name by hozier. published a few minutes early bc i've had five hours sleep in the past 24, so i'm going to bed. yay~

‘Do you want to come to my apartment tomorrow?’ Ian asked, breaking the silence. He and Mickey were doing their nightly meet up at the Alibi, and it had been almost a month since the first time they ran into each other.

‘Your apartment?’ Mickey asked, trying to keep his voice level. _Don’t get your hopes up._ ‘Um, sure. Okay.’

‘Really?’

‘Why, you taking it back?’

‘Nope,’ Ian grinned and pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket. ‘This is my address. You can just come right up.’

‘Came prepared, huh?’ Mickey said, raising an eyebrow and tucking the paper safely into his pocket.

Ian shrugged. ‘I’m the optimistic one, remember?’

Mickey snorted and downed the remaining dribble of his beer. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow then,’ he said, standing to leave.

‘You’re going already? We’ve only had one drink,’ Ian protested.

‘I know, I promised Mandy I would spend some time with her tonight. She was complaining she never sees me anymore.’

Ian smiled as he stood as well. ‘It’s probably true.’

‘It _is_ true,’ Mickey corrected. ‘Do you want me to bring anything?’

‘Maybe your own beer. You’ll drink me dry in about an hour.’

Mickey nodded. ‘Beer. Got it,’ he said, walking to the exit with Ian.

They went outside, and as usual, gave each other a parting glance, before smiling softly, and walking in opposite directions to their respective apartments.

 

* * *

 

Mickey had an overwhelming feeling of nervousness as he approached Ian’s apartment, beer in hand. He knew he was being ridiculous. This was _Ian_. Why should he be nervous? It wasn’t like anything would happen. He’d gotten over that idea pretty quickly, because Ian had made it clear that he and Mickey were just friends, and that they wouldn’t become anything more.

Just because they were both gay and both unattached didn’t mean that Ian returned Mickey’s less than platonic affections. Mickey was just setting himself up for disappointment by thinking they would be anything more than friends. Ian knew Mickey well enough to realise he deserved more and better than him, right?

Nevertheless, Mickey rounded the corner, entered Ian’s building and climbed the stairs to the third floor. He took a deep breath, and knocked on number _302_.

The door swung open mere seconds after Mickey had knocked, and he instantly felt overdressed in his usual jeans and button down. Ian was standing there in a tank top and loose pants, grinning widely.

‘Hey, Mick.’

Mickey let go of his breath and held out the beers to Ian in a vain attempt to look like he was doing anything but studying the way a few bits of Ian’s hair were sticking out in an adorably dorky way.

Ian laughed, taking the beers and standing back to allow Mickey in. ‘I see you found me.’

‘I did,’ Mickey said, looking around the small, tidy apartment. The place smelled like... _Ian_. Mickey sighed and inhaled a lungful, mentally slapping himself for getting so sentimental and caught up in the smell of Ian’s apartment. _The fuck are you doing, man?_

Ian shut the door and walked past Mickey to put the beers in the kitchen, and came back a few seconds later with a bottle in each hand. He passed one to Mickey and waved him towards where a small couch was placed against a wall in the living room.

‘So,’ Ian said, sitting cross legged on the couch and facing Mickey. ‘Did you want to talk today, or just sit in silence, like we usually do?’

‘I like the silence,’ Mickey said quietly. ‘But I don’t mind talking.’

Ian smiled. ‘Well, my brother broke up with his girlfriend last night.’

‘Why do I care?’

‘Not even I care, to be quite honest. She wasn’t very nice.’

‘Why did they break up?’

‘Lip didn’t want to get married, and she was all about settling down and getting a house and such.’

‘Why was he with her?’

Ian shrugged. ‘Not sure. I guess there was a point when he loved her.’

Mickey nodded, and they fell into silence.

At some point over the next few hours, they finished off their beers, and a second one each, and Ian ended up sitting pressed against Mickey’s side.

Mickey let out a deep sigh and relaxed into the cushions on Ian’s couch, allowing himself to think for a moment that this could’ve been his life. If he had stepped up before it was too late and told Ian that _“Oh, by the way, I think I might be kinda into you.”_ Mickey huffed at himself, and he felt Ian move to tilt his head up at him.

‘What?’ Ian asked.

‘Don’t worry,’ Mickey mumbled.

‘I worry,’ he said, repeating Mickey’s words back to him. ‘What’s on your mind, man?’

‘I just...’ Mickey bit his lip. _Think of something!_ ‘Thank you.’

‘For what?’

‘Saving my life all the time in ‘Nam.’

‘Yeah, well,’ Ian rolled his eyes. ‘As I said to Kev, I couldn’t let my best friend die.’

There it was. _Friend._ Mickey sighed again. God, he was in way too fucking deep over this kid. He glanced over to see Ian looking at him intently, his green eyes scrutinizing Mickey’s every move and expression. ‘Right.’

‘What, would you prefer I had let you die?’

‘No.’

‘Then what is it?’

‘You’re such a nosy little shit, aren’t you?’ Mickey asked, raising his eyebrows.

Ian shrugged and put his empty beer bottle on the floor. ‘I just know you well enough to know when you’re hiding something, is all.’

Mickey rolled his eyes. ‘Well, I’m not.’

Ian sighed. ‘Fine, don’t tell me.’

‘I won’t.’

‘Good.’

‘Fine.’

Ian watched as Mickey started running his thumb over the letters on his knuckles. Ian thought he looked so beautiful like this – his eyelashes brushing against his cheeks as he looked down, and the stark contrast between his dark hair and pale skin that was almost glowing from the light the moon was shining onto him through the window opposite the couch.

It was taking all of Ian’s self restraint not to kiss Mickey right now.

He had convinced himself that Mickey didn’t feel the same way he did, but something, some nagging little thought in the back of his mind, pointed out all the reasons why there was the possibility that he was wrong, and Mickey did feel the same.

Ian quickly weighed his options in his mind. Don’t kiss Mickey, and regret it later. Kiss Mickey, and maybe lose him as a friend. Kiss Mickey and take that step he had been toying with the idea of for the past few weeks.

‘Mickey?’ Ian asked softly.

Mickey turned to face him, his eyes clearer, brighter, and bluer now that the moon’s light was reflected in them. ‘Yeah?’

Ian bit his lip. _Just do it._ He raised his right hand slowly, and brought it up to Mickey’s cheek. He felt Mickey inhale sharply, but make no move to get his hand off him. _A promising start._ Ian slowly moved his other hand to be on the other side of Mickey’s face. Ian ran his thumbs over Mickey’s cheekbones before softly asking, ‘Is this okay?’

Mickey nodded imperceptibly, unwilling to cause unnecessary movement that could lose Ian’s touch from him. ‘Yeah,’ he breathed. ‘This is okay.’

Ian seemed unable to stop himself as he sighed and murmured, ‘You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, Mikhailo Milkovich.’

Mickey thought he might’ve been dreaming. _You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen._

At the look of shock that passed over Mickey’s face, Ian thought he had interpreted the signals wrong, and might’ve been a bit too forward. He started to pull his hands away before Mickey caught them with his own, holding them against his cheeks.

‘You’re beautiful too, Ian,’ Mickey whispered, moving his gaze up to Ian’s face from where he had previously been staring at his hands, folded in his lap.

Ian took that as a hint and carefully moved his face closer to Mickey’s, until he could feel his breath on his lips. _Do it._ Ian surged the rest of the way forward, crashing his mouth into Mickey’s and feeling the other man respond almost instantly.

Mickey’s hands flew up to cup Ian’s face and run his fingers through his hair, eventually allowing one hand to fall on the back of Ian’s neck and pull him closer, leaving no room between them.

They moved in sync, standing off the couch and pulling clothes off to throw them in random directions. They couldn’t stand to be separate from each other for more than a few moments, because now that they were finally on the same page, they didn’t want to waste any time.

Mickey sighed as Ian moved his mouth down the side of his neck, biting lightly at his pulse point and kissing down to his shoulder. He ran his hands up and over Ian’s chest, feeling the hard muscle under smooth skin.

Ian pulled back, looking down at Mickey with a small smirk on his lips. ‘You want to...’

‘Course I fucking want to, idiot,’ Mickey replied, pulling Ian back down to kiss him harshly. ‘Where’s your fucking bed, because we’re gonna need it.’

‘Unless we do it here?’

‘Ay, calm down, Romeo,’ Mickey laughed. ‘Gotta see if you’re any good first, before you start getting all adventurous.’

‘How dare you question my skills!’ Ian said in mock offense.

‘Well I’ve seen fuck all of your “skills”, so I’m allowed to question them. Where’s the Goddamn bed, Gallagher?’

Ian just grinned in reply and tugged on Mickey’s hand, pulling him towards the bedroom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [come talk to me~](http://im-not-his-keeper.tumblr.com/)


	13. Battleships

When Mickey woke up, there was an arm slung possessively over his waist. He could feel his heartbeat beginning to race from fear and adrenaline, until he felt the person behind him stir, and the arm tensed momentarily. He looked down, and the arm was sprinkled with freckles. _That’s right._

‘Ian,’ Mickey breathed, remembering the events of the night before. He smiled and turned in the arms cradling him to face the other man behind him.

Ian’s eyes were open, and he was looking at Mickey like he was the most precious thing he had ever seen, or had the privilege to hold. ‘Hey.’

‘Hey.’

Ian smiled. ‘You want breakfast?’

‘No, not yet,’ Mickey sighed and wormed closer into Ian’s warmth. ‘Let’s stay here for a bit longer.’

‘Okay,’ Ian murmured, wrapping his arms around Mickey’s back and rubbing softly. ‘How did you sleep?’

‘I think that’s the best I’ve slept in over a year.’

‘Same,’ Ian agreed. ‘No nightmares or anything.’

‘Nope, none.’

‘It’s like we’re cancelling each other’s bad dreams out,’ Ian mused, running his fingertips lightly down the bumps of Mickey’s spine.

‘If that’s what happened,’ Mickey began slowly. ‘Then I think we should sleep together more often, don’t you?’

There was a sharp intake of breath, and Mickey was beginning to think he had been a bit too forward, before Ian cleared his throat and said, ‘Did you just proposition me, Milkovich?’

‘I... No, of course not,’ Mickey said defensively. ‘Like... for science.’

‘Like for science.’

‘Mhmm.’

‘We should sleep together more often, purely in the name of science.’

‘Yup.’

Ian nodded, his chin brushing against the top of Mickey’s head. ‘I agree.’

Mickey sighed, perfectly content. ‘Oh, hey. How’s the water pressure here?’

‘Amazing.’

‘Show me later?’

‘Definitely.’

 

* * *

 

Two weeks later, and Ian and Mickey were playing a game on a rainy Saturday afternoon.

‘Jesus Christ,’ Ian muttered. ‘Where the fuck are you hiding, Mick?’

‘You don’t expect me to tell you, do you?’ Mickey asked, grinning at the redhead.

Ian narrowed his eyes and turned his attention back to the board in front of him. ‘Let’s try... F3?’

Mickey laughed. ‘Miss again, gingerbread!’

‘Are you fucking joking right now?’ Ian groaned. ‘What the _fuck_?’

‘Not my fault you fucking _suck_ at battleships, man,’ Mickey bit his lip thoughtfully and scanned his own board. ‘What about... B8?’

‘You fucking asshole!’ Ian cried, angrily cramming a peg into one of his ships.

‘That’s a hit?’

‘Of course it is!’ Ian pointed accusingly at Mickey. ‘Are you cheating?’

‘How the fuck would I cheat?’ Mickey asked, raising an eyebrow. ‘I just have a gift.’

‘Gift, my ass. Take another shot.’

‘B7?’

‘Haha! Miss, sucker!’ Ian said happily.

‘Yeah, yeah. Take your damn shot, Gallagher,’ Mickey said, rolling his eyes. ‘I ain’t getting any younger.’

‘Or prettier,’ Ian laughed as Mickey flipped him off. ‘Hmm... A1?’

‘Hit,’ Mickey confirmed. ‘Again.’

‘A2?’

‘Hit.’

‘No way! A3.’

‘...Hit,’ Mickey sighed, shoving a third peg into his ship.

‘A4?’ Ian raised an eyebrow. ‘Say it. You know you want to.’

Mickey narrowed his eyes. ‘Fine. You sunk my battleship, Gallagher.’

‘Hah!’ Ian grinned triumphantly. ‘Take off your damn pants, Milkovich.’

‘You’ve been itching to say that, haven’t you?’ Mickey grumbled, standing obligingly, and pulling his pants off, before sitting back down.

‘Yup. Now... C3?’

‘Miss.’

‘Damn.’

‘C8?’

‘Hit,’ Ian frowned. ‘And sink. That was my destroyer.’

‘Nicknaming your dick? That’s cute,’ Mickey grinned.

‘Fuck you. What am I taking off?’ Ian asked. ‘Only got boxers and one sock left.’

‘Boxers,’ Mickey decided. ‘Wouldn’t want your toes getting cold, huh, Gallagher?’

Ian rolled his eyes. ‘Why did we decide to play strip battleships, again?’

‘Because you thought you were better at it than me,’ Mickey answered immediately. ‘And either you were _seriously_ wrong, or you’re losing on purpose so I get to make you take your clothes off.’

‘Which do you think it is?’

‘I think you just suck at this game, to be honest.’

‘You would be correct with that assumption.’

‘I know,’ Mickey nodded. ‘You usually just take them off if you want to. You’re a bit of a...’

‘Harlot?’

‘I was going to say scarlet woman, actually. Because you have red hair, you see.’

‘Hilarious.’

‘Ian?’

‘Mm?’

‘I’ve actually won.’

Ian frowned, looking down at his board. All his ships were full with pegs. ‘Fuck.’

‘Boxers off, man. We had a deal,’ Mickey shrugged.

Ian grinned. ‘Why don’t you do the honours?’

‘Is it an honour?’

‘Damn right it is.’

Mickey laughed. ‘Yeah, alright.’

 

* * *

 

Mickey was awake.

He didn’t know if Ian was awake too, but going by the way that his hand was drifting across Mickey’s back, drawing shapes and patterns over his skin, Mickey would hazard a guess and say that yeah, Ian was awake.

Over the course of the night, they had found themselves in the middle of Ian’s bed – their bed, rather, after Mickey had moved in a few weeks ago. Ian was sprawled on his back, with Mickey curled into his side, his head on Ian’s chest. He could hear Ian’s heart beating strong under his ear, and it was a comforting sound, because it kept him grounded and reminded him he was alive. Alive, and in love with a man who loved him back.

Mickey had thrown his arm over Ian’s waist, and he couldn’t help but tighten his grip whenever Ian shifted, or adjusted his position at all – like he would float away if Mickey didn’t keep him on the bed.

The radio in the corner of Ian’s room was buzzing quietly, playing music from whatever station Ian had tuned it to, and it was all Mickey could hear, other than the pulse beneath him.

‘Hey, Mick?’ Ian asked quietly. ‘You awake?’

‘Yeah,’ Mickey murmured. ‘Why?’

‘You know what today is?’

‘The day you’re going to make me coffee and not drink it before I get the chance to?’

Ian chuckled. ‘No, not yet. It’s our three month-iversary.’

‘Monthly what?’ Mickey frowned.

‘Month-iversary.’

‘Anniversary, man. The word you want is _anniversary_ ,’ Mickey corrected.

‘No, anno is year, Mick.’

‘Whatever, man.’

‘Aren’t you excited?’ Ian asked, pausing in his drawing on Mickey’s skin.

‘Just another day, Gallagher.’

‘You’re such a wet blanket,’ Ian murmured. ‘Oh, I love this song!’

Mickey lifted his head to listen to the music playing from the corner of the room. ‘What is it?’

Ian hummed along the first couple of lines, ignoring Mickey’s question, before belting out, _‘I would rather, I would rather go blind, boy, than to see you walk away from me.’_

‘Oh God,’ Mickey groaned. ‘Please don’t sing along.’

_‘So you see, I love you so much, and I don’t wanna see you leave me, baby. But most of all, I don’t wanna be free,’_ Ian continued.

Mickey rolled his eyes, and hummed along, because he knew Ian loved this song. He had caught him humming it as he walked around the apartment, or made them breakfast.

_‘I was just, I was just, I was just sitting here thinking about your kiss and your warm embrace,’_ Ian sang. ‘Come on, Mick. I know you know the words.’

_‘With the reflection in the glass that I held to my lips, baby, revealed the tears that were on my face,’_ Mickey sang quietly.

‘There you go!’ Ian praised. _‘I would rather go blind, boy, than to see you walk away from me. So you see, I love you so much, and I don’t wanna see you leave me, baby. But most of all, I don’t wanna be free.’_

As the guitar solo started, Mickey turned his head to look up to Ian, who was nodding along with the beat. ‘Why do you like this song so much?’

Ian shrugged. ‘At first, I didn’t know why, but then I realised, it’s us, isn’t it?’

Mickey frowned. ‘How is this song “us”?’

‘Well...’ Ian coughed awkwardly. ‘I would rather go blind than to see you walk away from me, Mick. I don’t want to be free from you.’

‘Really?’ Mickey asked, biting his lip to contain his smile.

‘Yeah,’ Ian mumbled. ‘Sorry, that’s a bit... out there.’

‘No, it’s fine,’ Mickey said instantly. ‘I’m surprised you haven’t come up with that sappy shit earlier, to be honest.’

Ian laughed. ‘Fuck off.’

‘Nah, you’d go blind, remember?’ Mickey teased. ‘But, um. You know the whole “I love you so much” part?’

‘Mm?’

Mickey was quiet for a couple of minutes, thinking about whether he really wanted to have this conversation with Ian right now. He knew he loved Ian, and he knew Ian loved him, but they hadn’t said it out loud yet. He decided to throw everything into the wind, and asked quietly, ‘That true too?’

‘Would it be okay if it was?’ Ian replied tentatively. He knew Mickey was skittish when it came to talking about feelings. Push too much, and he would run away.

‘Yeah,’ Mickey nodded. ‘Yeah, I’d be okay with that.’

‘Good,’ Ian kissed the top of Mickey’s head. ‘Because I do. Even though it’s only been a few months, but I think it’s building on what I felt for you when we were... you know. In the army.’

‘I do too,’ Mickey said, running his hand up Ian’s side, over his ribs, collarbone, throat, and cupping his cheek. ‘But I’ve loved you since we were in ‘Nam, so it’s not really a grand reveal or anything, for me.’

Ian laced his fingers through Mickey’s and brought them down to rest over his heart. ‘I know. I’m sorry it took me so long to realise this, Mick.’

‘It’s okay.’

‘Mick?’

‘Mm?’

‘Can I say it? Would that be okay with you?’

‘Say what?’

‘That I love you.’

Mickey smiled. ‘That would be okay with me.’

Ian brought their conjoined hands back up and kissed the back of Mickey’s. ‘I love you.’

‘I know,’ Mickey took a deep breath, and threw himself in the deep end. ‘Love you too, Ian.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the song on the radio is 'i'd rather go blind' by chicken shack. and that specific version. (just btw.) (i like that one most.)
> 
> [come see me~](http://im-not-his-keeper.tumblr.com/)


	14. Raised for the Slaughter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2/3rds of the way through! chapter title from 'abraham's daughter' by arcade fire. even though it's only 11:10pm here, and i'm supposed to be doing these at midnight, i feel like shit (props to my sister for getting me sick) (again) so i'm chucking this up early.

_Mickey was running._

_He didn’t know who from – never did, after all – but he knew why. The person behind him had a gun and deadly aim, and Mickey did not want to become another fatality in this war. He refused to join the ranks of those who had gone before him, and if there was one thing he wanted more than anything, it was to live and get home to Mandy. Mandy, and Ian._

_Oh God, Ian. Where was Ian? Mickey remembered seeing Ian running with him, but looking around now, he couldn’t see him anywhere._

_Mickey could feel his heart hammering against his sternum, even as he slowed down and looked anxiously around for the redhead. No sign of him anywhere._

_‘Ian?’ Mickey called, being careful not to draw attention to himself. ‘Ian, where are you?’_

_‘Mickey?’ a feeble voice called. ‘Mick, I’m over here.’_

_Mickey spun and followed the sound of the voice. ‘Ian?’_

_‘I’m here,’ a cough. ‘I’m here.’_

_Mickey pushed aside the tall grasses he had waded into, scanning the ground for the source of Ian’s voice. ‘I can’t see you, Ian.’_

_‘I’m right here.’_

_‘Ian,’ Mickey’s voice was frantic as he tossed his gun aside to move freely through the plants. ‘Ian, I can’t see you!’_

_‘I’m here, Mickey!’ the voice was right at his feet, and Mickey looked down to see Mandy – Mandy? – lying on the ground, covered in dirt and wearing an army uniform._

_‘Mandy?’ Mickey asked, confused. He kneeled down and wiped the mud from his sister’s face with his thumbs. ‘What are you doing here?’_

_‘I had to protect your stupid ass, didn’t I?’ Mandy coughed again, and blood dribbled from the corner of her mouth. ‘Got shot, Mick.’_

_‘What?’ Mickey looked down to see blood streaming freely from a smattering of holes in Mandy’s skin, like bloody freckles. ‘Fuck, Mandy,’ Mickey put his hands over her wounds in an attempt to keep the blood inside her. ‘Don’t die on me, Mands.’_

_‘I’m already done for, Mick,’ Mandy laughed, and it was a cruel, ugly sound. ‘Leave me. Go find Ian. He’s more important to you now.’_

_‘No, he’s not! You’re my sister, Mandy!’ Mickey felt something touch his cheek, and as he tasted salt in his mouth, he realised he was crying. ‘You’re my sister! I need you here, Mandy!’_

_‘I know, but you need him more than you need me, Mick,’ Mandy took a shuddering breath. ‘Go find him. He’s hurt, too.’_

_‘Mandy, don’t –’_

_‘Don’t what? Don’t die?’ Mandy coughed up more blood and grimaced as some dripped back into her mouth. ‘Bit late for that, huh?’_

_‘No, Mandy, please, don’t leave me. I don’t know what to do,’ Mickey’s hands fluttered uselessly over his sister’s abdomen. ‘Tell me what I can do to fix this. How do I fix this?’_

_‘You can’t,’ Mandy sighed, feeling the last of her life drain from her body. ‘Don’t disappoint him. Don’t let Ian die like you let me die.’_

_‘No,’ Mickey cried. ‘No, Mandy. Don’t leave me!’_

_As Mandy’s body went limp in his arms, Mickey’s tears wove through the mud on her face, like rivers through a mountainside after a storm. Mandy was gone, and it was his fault. He couldn’t fix her, not now. After all the times he had saved Mandy from their father, it had been her dying to protect Mickey that had finally gotten her killed._

_He wouldn’t let Ian die because of him, too._

_Mickey had to find Ian, before he died and Mickey was left completely alone. He wouldn’t let Ian’s death be on him as well._

_Mickey scrambled up from the dirt, feeling water trickle down his face. He looked up, and saw that huge storm clouds had gathered overhead, and had opened up, like Heaven’s wrath was coming down upon him for allowing his sister, the one person who had always been there for him, to die._

_And he had. He had let Mandy die. But now, he had to find Ian. He couldn’t let the two people he loved the most die on the same day because of him._

_Mickey looked around him, seeing nothing but an ocean of grass, and cried, ‘Ian!’_

_‘Mickey?’ a voice called back. ‘Mickey, where are you? I can’t see you!’_

_‘Ian! Ian, I’m coming! Where are you?’ Mickey called, running in the direction of Ian’s voice. ‘Ian, talk to me!’_

_‘Mickey, I’m here!’ Ian cried. ‘Help me!’_

_‘Ian, stay calm!’ Mickey started running, suppressing the sobs threatening to break free. ‘Where are you?’_

_‘Here! I’m right here!’_

_Mickey ran faster, tripping over something in the dirt, and face planting in the mud. He didn’t care. ‘Ian?’_

_‘Yeah, Mick. You got me,’ Ian said. ‘I’m right here.’_

_Mickey wiped the mud from his eyes and looked down, seeing he had tripped over Ian’s gun. A few feet away, Mickey saw Ian sitting propped up against a rock. ‘Oh God, Ian,’ Mickey said, relief flooding his voice. That relief didn’t last long when he noticed the series of huge gashes across Ian’s chest. ‘Oh God.’_

_‘Yeah,’ Ian laughed sadly. ‘Yeah, I know.’_

_‘What happened?’ Mickey asked, crawling toward the bleeding man. ‘Are those from –’_

_‘A bamboo whip? Yeah.’_

_‘Where the fuck did you run into a bamboo whip, idiot?’ Mickey sighed, seeing how deep the wounds were._

_‘Last mountain range we were in.’_

_‘We haven’t been in the mountains for days, Ian,’ Mickey said, prodding the skin around one of the gashes lightly. It was tight, red, and burning hot, and a flood of yellow pus and dark red blood poured out of the wound. ‘Jesus Christ, why didn’t you say something?’_

_‘We had to leave!’ Ian said. ‘I didn’t want to hold us back, and I couldn’t leave you.’_

_‘We could’ve stopped and cleaned these, Ian! Now they’re infected.’_

_‘I know,’ Ian nodded. ‘I know. But you know as well as I do that no one survives bamboo whips anyway, Mick.’_

_‘Then how have you lasted for three days?’ Mickey bit his lip, and pulled his water canteen around, opening it and pouring a bit of his water onto the wounds in a vain attempt to clean them._

_‘Not sure,’ Ian wheezed. ‘But I won’t last much longer, Mick. I can feel the infection in my heart.’_

_‘The infection? I can fix this, Ian. Let me fix this.’_

_‘You can’t fix it if you’re the problem,’ Ian said, his eyelids fluttering shut for a moment._

_‘What? What do you mean?’_

_‘You,’ Ian said, opening his eyes again, and fixing Mickey with clear green eyes. ‘You’re the infection, Mickey.’_

_‘Ian, what –’_

_‘You’re the infection. You killed me, Mickey. You did,’ Ian exhaled slowly, closing his eyes and leaning back. Before he went completely still, Ian murmured, ‘You killed me.’_

‘Ian!’ Mickey cried, jolting up.

‘Mick?’ Ian asked. ‘What is it?’

Mickey blinked. ‘Ian?’

‘Mickey?’ Ian said carefully, concern evident in his tone, as he placed a hand gently on his boyfriend’s arm. ‘Are you okay?’

Mickey lowered himself back onto the bed, and relaxed into the mattress. ‘No,’ he replied. ‘No, I’m not okay.’

‘What happened?’ Ian asked, turning onto his side to face Mickey.

‘Mandy died, and it was my fault,’ Mickey took a shaky breath. ‘Then you said I was the infection and I killed you.’

‘Mandy’s fine, Mick,’ Ian murmured. ‘And I don’t think you’re an infection. You haven’t killed me. If anything, you’ve saved me.’

‘No, I didn’t. You... you died right in front of me, Ian. I saw the life leave you, and it was my fault that you got bamboo... bamboo whipped,’ Mickey shut his eyes tightly, and drew his limbs into himself, curling into a small ball.

‘Mick,’ Ian took one of Mickey’s hands gently, and put it on his chest. ‘I’m fine. I never got whipped, and I’m still alive. See?’

Mickey nodded, twisting his hand into the fabric of Ian’s shirt. ‘You said I was the infection.’

‘You’re not an infection,’ Ian said softly, wrapping his long arms around Mickey, and pulling the other man closer. ‘You’re not an infection.’

‘Are you sure?’ Mickey mumbled, tears winding down his face of their own free will, and soaking into Ian’s shirt.

If Ian noticed, he didn’t say anything, just pressed his lips to Mickey’s hair. ‘Yes, I’m sure. You’re perfect, Mickey.’

Mickey sniffed. ‘If you say so.’

‘I do,’ Ian sighed. ‘Think you can go back to sleep?’

‘I’ll try.’

‘Okay. I’ll be here when you wake up, and I’m not going anywhere. I’m not dying, and you’re not an infection.’

‘Okay. Sorry I woke you up.’

‘It’s fine, babe. I’ll always be here to chase the bad dreams away.’

‘I hope so.’

 

* * *

 

‘Hey, Mickey?’ Ian asked the next morning as they sat down to have breakfast.

‘Mm?’ Mickey swallowed his coffee. ‘What is it?’

‘Just, um. You want to have dinner with my family tomorrow? With me, of course, but Fiona asked me when I was going to bring my mysterious boyfriend around for Sunday dinner.’

Mickey nodded. ‘I suppose that would be okay.’

‘Really?’ Ian asked, sounding surprised he hadn’t met more resistance.

‘Yes? Why wouldn’t it be?’

‘I don’t know. I just thought you might not want to go in official capacity as my boyfriend.’

Mickey rolled his eyes as he sat with Ian at the tiny kitchen table. ‘We live together, you shove your dick up my ass on an almost nightly basis, and you think I don’t know we’re boyfriends?’

Ian shrugged. ‘I didn’t think you’d give in so easily, is all.’

Mickey made a noncommittal noise. ‘Being called someone’s boyfriend is not the worst thing to ever happen to me, Gallagher.’

‘I know. I was there for that as well.’

‘Funny how the best and worst parts of my life have all happened since I met you, huh?’ Mickey frowned. ‘Well, except for my Mom leaving, I suppose.’

‘Your Mom left you?’

‘Yeah. I don’t want to talk about it,’ Mickey said, his frown digging deeper into his face.

‘Fair enough. My Mom did, too.’

‘Great, something we can bond over.’

Ian rolled his eyes. ‘Lip is bringing his new girlfriend over tomorrow, too, so that should be interesting.’

‘New girlfriend? How long have they been dating?’ Mickey asked, stealing a piece of Ian’s toast.

‘A month or two, I think. I wasn’t really given an exact date.’

‘Fascinating.’

‘Not really.’

 

* * *

 

‘Jesus Christ, Mick,’ Ian said exasperatedly, tapping his foot anxiously against the floor. ‘I’m gay because I _didn’t_ want to deal with all this girly waiting around crap!’

‘Shut the fuck up, Gallagher!’ came the reply. ‘You’re gay because you like dick, and more specifically, you like _my_ dick.’

‘Whatever you want to think,’ Ian rolled his eyes. ‘I said we would be there pretty much right now.’

‘Keep your fucking pants on, man,’ Mickey said, doing up the last of his buttons as he stepped out of their bedroom. ‘Is this okay?’

‘You look great in whatever you wear,’ Ian smiled, standing up and running his hands down Mickey’s arms. ‘Are you trying to impress my family?’

Mickey looked down at his shoes, and kicked Ian lightly. ‘Don’t want them to think I’m bad for you or something.’

‘Babe, I don’t care what they think, okay?’ Ian kissed Mickey’s hair in reassurance. ‘Okay?’

‘Yeah, okay,’ Mickey conceded. ‘But they’re your family, and you only have one of those. I’m replaceable.’

‘No, you’re not. Where is all of this self doubt coming from? First you think you’re an infection – which you’re _not_ – and now you think you’re replaceable?’ Ian shook his head. ‘Babe, I don’t like your thinking. You’re not going to leave, are you?’

At the expression on Ian’s face, Mickey reached up and smoothed the creases of worry from his boyfriend’s face. ‘No, of course I’m not going to leave.’

‘Good,’ Ian said, catching one of Mickey’s hands and kissing his palm. ‘Because that would be worse than going back to ‘Nam.’

‘I don’t know if I would say that.’

‘What?’ Ian frowned. ‘What do you mean?’

 _Shit._ ‘No, I don’t – I didn’t mean...’

‘I know what you mean,’ Ian said. ‘I don’t want to think about what it means for us, but I know.’

‘Ian, don’t...’ Mickey began. He stopped when he saw the look of utter disappointment on Ian’s face. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘Don’t be. It was my mistake,’ Ian dropped Mickey’s hand and grabbed his keys from the bowl next to the door. ‘We’re going to be even later if we don’t leave now. You still want to come?’

‘Yeah, of course.’

‘Sure?’ Ian asked, raising his eyebrows.

Mickey nodded. ‘I’m sure.’

 

* * *

 

‘Ian’s here!’ Debbie cried back over her shoulder, before stepping forwards to pull her brother into a hug.

‘Hey, Debs,’ Ian smiled, blowing her hair out of his mouth. ‘This is Mickey.’

Mickey stepped out from behind Ian and waved awkwardly. ‘Hi.’

Debbie was having none of that. She pushed Ian out of the way and threw her arms around Mickey. ‘Nice to meet you!’

Mickey glanced at Ian over her shoulder as if to say, _“Help me!”_ but received nothing other than an amused shake of the head in return. ‘Nice to meet you too?’

Debbie grinned and stepped back, ushering the pair into the house. ‘Have you met Lip’s new girlfriend yet? She looks a bit like you, Mickey.’

Ian laughed and threw at arm around Mickey’s shoulders. ‘Let’s hope she doesn’t act like him, too. We don’t need two Mickeys running around.’

Debbie shrugged. ‘She’s nice though. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad,’ she said, turning and walking towards the kitchen, leaving the pair behind her.

‘Are you talking to me again?’ Mickey murmured to Ian, as he was steered towards the kitchen.

‘What are you talking about?’ Ian asked.

‘You didn’t speak to me the entire way here.’

‘I’m not going to give my family any reasons to dislike you, Mick,’ Ian said softly. ‘Just because you said _one thing_ I didn’t like doesn’t mean our entire relationship is down the drain.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘What do you mean, am I sure? Yes, of course. You mean more to me than one simple thing I know that deep down you don’t mean.’

‘How do you know I don’t mean it?’

‘You apologised,’ Ian said simply, as they entered the kitchen. ‘Greetings, family!’

‘Ian!’ a frazzled looking young woman grinned, coming over to them from the stove and pulling Ian into a hug. ‘And this is your new beau, huh?’

‘Yeah,’ Ian smiled, stepping back from his sister. ‘Fi, this is Mickey. Mick, this is my older sister, Fiona.’

‘It’s nice to meet you, Mickey,’ Fiona said, giving him a smile, before turning back to Ian. ‘Lip is somewhere upstairs. Giving his girlfriend the grand tour, I think. Have you met her yet?’

‘No, not yet,’ Ian replied.

‘Hey, Ian!’ Lip cried down the stairs. ‘Long time, no see, brother!’

Ian grinned and clapped his brother on the back. ‘Good to see you too, Lip. This is Mickey.’

‘Mickey, huh?’ Lip said, looking him up and down. He stuck a hand out for Mickey to shake, and said, ‘You were in the army with my brother, yeah?’

‘Yeah,’ Mickey nodded. ‘I was.’

‘Cool,’ Lip said.

‘No, not really,’ Mickey mumbled.

Ian cleared his throat. ‘So, uh. Where’s this girlfriend we’ve been hearing about?’

‘Upstairs fixing her hair, or something,’ Lip shrugged and looked towards the stairs. ‘Oh, no. Here she is. Ian, Mickey –’

‘Not my brother, Mickey? That would be weird,’ a black haired young woman said, stepping down from the staircase and looking around the kitchen. ‘Oh.’

‘Mandy?’ Mickey asked.

‘Mick?’ Mandy replied. She stepped forward and pulled her brother into a hug. ‘You didn’t tell me you were dating Lip’s brother!’

‘Yeah, I did!’ Mickey said indignantly. ‘It’s Ian!’

‘Ian is your brother?’ Mandy asked, stepping back from Mickey and looking back at Lip. ‘Your brother is dating my brother?’

‘Looks like it,’ Lip laughed in surprise.

‘Well,’ Ian said. ‘I think we met the day Mick and I got back from the army, but we haven’t been formally introduced. I’ve heard a lot about you, Mandy.’

‘Hope it was nothing bad?’ Mandy said, shooting her brother a dangerous look.

‘Nope, all good. Promise,’ Ian smiled. ‘Shall we sit? Dinner is ready, right, Fiona?’

‘It is,’ Fiona replied, pulling dishes out of the oven. ‘Debbie! Carl! Dinner is done!’

The two teenagers came down the stairs, shoving each other into the walls, and sat down with the rest of the group at the table.

Mickey and Mandy had, apparently, not seen each other in weeks – closer to a month, if Mandy’s guess was right – so they sat between their respective boyfriends, discussing their lives quietly, while the Gallaghers had a conversation of their own.

The food disappeared quickly, and talk died down a bit, until Mandy sat up and interrupted whatever Mickey was saying, by hitting him on the shoulder and saying, ‘Oh! By the way, you know it’s my birthday next week, right?’

Mickey stopped speaking and paused. ‘Uh... Yes.’

‘Yes?’

‘Yeah, obviously,’ Mickey said slowly. ‘Why?’

‘I’m having a party! You and Ian should come. It’ll be fun,’ she smiled. ‘I’m having it at the Alibi, because the apartment would be too small.’

‘How many people did you invite?’ Mickey frowned.

‘I lost track,’ Mandy shrugged. ‘A few.’

‘A few,’ Mickey rolled his eyes. ‘Ian? You want to go?’

‘Sure, okay,’ Ian nodded. ‘I like parties.’

‘Great!’ Mandy grinned. ‘Would you like a list of things you can get me for my birthday, then?’

‘Not really,’ Mickey muttered. ‘But I feel like you’re gonna give me one, anyway.’

Mandy laughed lightly. ‘Obviously,’ she said, and began listing items she wanted.

Ian seemed to be listening, and he had always had the better memory out of the two of them, so Mickey was happy to zone out and ignore his sister.

Before they left to go back to their own apartment, later that night, Mandy pulled Mickey in for another hug, and kissed his cheek. ‘Don’t forget! Next Saturday at the Alibi at about seven. Okay?’

‘Yeah, got it,’ Mickey said, waiting for Ian to be passed along the line of Gallagher siblings. ‘Gallagher! Hurry up.’

‘Yeah, I’m coming,’ Ian called back, letting go of Debbie, and hugging Mandy as well. ‘We’ll see you next week.’

‘You better,’ Mandy grinned. ‘Got my list?’

Ian nodded and tapped his temple. ‘Up here.’

‘Good,’ she said. ‘Get home safe, now!’

‘We’ll be fine, Mands,’ Mickey said, rolling his eyes. ‘Good _night_.’

‘Night, guys!’ the rest of the Gallaghers and Mandy called back.

Ian laughed as he grabbed Mickey’s hand, and led them on their way back to their apartment.

They didn’t speak until they got through the door, and even then it was Ian saying, ‘I’m gonna go straight to sleep. I’m dead.’

‘Alright,’ Mickey nodded. ‘I, ah. I’m sorry for what I said earlier.’

‘Sorry?’ Ian asked, paused in untying his shoes.

‘Yeah.’

‘You pretty much said you would rather break up than go back to Vietnam. I thought I would mean more to you than that. I thought we would be one of those couples who would literally die for the other, and God knows we almost did, a few times. Apparently, I was wrong.’

‘I think you’re being sort of ridiculous, Ian,’ Mickey said, regretting the words as soon as they left his mouth. ‘Shit.’

‘Yeah,’ Ian nodded. ‘Shit.’

‘Look,’ Mickey started, thinking what he could say to make this better. ‘You know how much I love you, and how much you mean to me, right? But going back to war? I would rather chop my own dick off than go back to war.’

Ian raised an eyebrow. ‘What the fuck is that supposed to mean?’

‘It means...’ Mickey bit his lip. ‘It means I love you as much as I love my dick. I’m kinda attached to you, and I would hate to be without you, because things just wouldn’t _work_ anymore. I hated ‘Nam more than anything I’ve ever faced in my life, man, and I’ve faced a lot of shit.’

‘I know, Mick,’ Ian said, biting his lip. ‘You know, I think that’s the most romantic thing you’ve ever said to me.’

‘What, that you’re like my dick?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Fuck, man. Your idea of romance is weird.’

‘I know. It has to be if I’m dating you,’ Ian stood up from where he had been sitting on the bed and pulled Mickey into a hug. ‘We’re good, though. I get what you’re saying.’

‘You do?’ Mickey asked, burying his face into Ian’s shoulder.

‘Mhmm,’ Ian nodded. ‘We’re good.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [come see me~](http://im-not-his-keeper.tumblr.com/)


	15. My Pride is the One to Blame

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter title from 'crazy in love' by kadebostany (which is a cover of beyonce) (which beyonce then covered for the 50 shades soundtrack) (but i do this like this version better)

Ian had said they were good, and they were. They would’ve _stayed_ good if it weren’t for the incident at Mandy’s birthday. Because, y’know, Mickey happened.

 

* * *

 

They had patched things up after Mickey had declared that he loved Ian as if he were his own dick. They had gone back to sleeping so close together you could’ve hatched a fucking egg in the heat between them, and sharing lukewarm cups of coffee and burnt toast in the kitchen after accidentally making out for a bit longer than was necessary. They played strip battleships on the Friday night before Mandy’s party, and ended up fucking in the middle of the living room, then in the bed, then again in the shower, before finally nestling into the sheets and sleeping curled up within each other, fingers laced together, legs tangled, heads on the same pillow, and facing each other.

The other was the last thing they saw before they fell asleep, and the first thing they saw when they woke up, and sometimes Mickey would think that it was better than falling asleep in Ian’s arms, with the warmth of the redhead pressed firmly to his back.

Ian was the most beautiful thing Mickey had ever had the privilege to call his, and there was no way he wanted to screw that up. Ian was sunshine when the skies were dark and cloudy, he was the one that brought colour into Mickey’s otherwise monotonous world, and he was the one that breathed life into Mickey’s dry veins. Ian was everything to Mickey now, and he controlled the kaleidoscope Mickey saw the world through, twisting and twisting to bring more colour and beauty into his life.

Mickey was okay to give his control over to Ian. He was okay to let Ian steer them both down the right path, and completely trust Ian like he would no other. For once, Mickey thought everything in his life was perfect.

Which was exactly why the world said, “Fuck you, Mickey Milkovich!” and screwed everything up so spectacularly. This was why Milkoviches never had nice things. _This_ was why _Mickey_ never had nice things. At some point or another, it was always going to get crapped on.

 

* * *

 

Things went downhill at Mandy’s birthday.

Mickey had been psyching himself up for it the whole week. He knew that at least his brothers would be there, and if his dad was out of jail, then he would be there too – Terry never missed the opportunity for free alcohol.

Mickey had, at some point, decided that he would introduce Ian as his boyfriend – fuck the consequences, Mickey was so in love with this stupid gingerbread boy that he would probably get Ian’s name tattooed across his ass if he asked him to. Mickey wanted to scream from rooftops that Ian was his, and the closest thing to that he could actually do was come out.

He didn’t care whether he was out or not, and he knew Ian didn’t either – not yet, at least, though Mickey knew he would one day – but because of the little bumps he and Ian had hit in the road, Mickey wanted to show Ian how much he meant to him.

Ian had said he thought that he and Mickey would die for each other, and _God_ , Mickey would, but he could tell that Ian still had a few doubts forming about the validity of Mickey’s feelings and want of their relationship. Coming out would, surely, put those thoughts out of Ian’s mind.

As they got ready to go to Mandy’s party at the Alibi on Saturday night, Mickey was preparing himself for what would inevitably be a life changing moment. Or one of the last moments of his life. He was okay with either.

Ian smiled at Mickey, all the warmth he possessed being channelled into that one look, and steered them both out of the apartment and towards the Alibi. ‘You’ve got Mandy’s present, right?’ Ian asked, suddenly remembering the nicely wrapped box sitting on the kitchen bench.

‘I thought you had it?’ Mickey said, frowning. ‘We can always give it to her tomorrow or something. Her birthday isn’t until Tuesday.’

‘Yeah, yeah, I suppose,’ Ian said. ‘We’ll probably see her on Tuesday anyway.’

‘Exactly,’ Mickey nodded.

They fell back into silence, and as they approached the bar, Mickey bit his lip anxiously and put his arm across Ian’s chest, stopping him in his path, so that Mickey could come around and stand in front of him.

‘Mickey?’ Ian asked. ‘What are you doing?’

‘No matter what happens tonight, I want you to know I love you, okay?’ Mickey said, placing his hands on Ian’s shoulders. ‘More than anything.’

‘I know,’ Ian said slowly. ‘What are you expecting to happen?’

‘If my dad is there, I don’t know. Probably nothing good. Just in case he finds out about us and gets violent.’

‘You think he’ll try to attack us?’

‘Definitely,’ Mickey nodded. ‘So, I love you.’

‘I know, Mick.’

‘Okay,’ Mickey let out a sigh of relief and allowed them to continue walking towards the Alibi.

They pushed through the door, and were immediately attacked by a flailing pair of arms, attached to a slightly tipsy Mandy. ‘Mickey,’ she cooed. ‘And Ian! My _boys_. My favourite boys!’

‘Hey, Mandy,’ Ian said, looking around for Lip. ‘Happy birthday.’

‘Aw, Ian. You’re such a sweetheart,’ Mandy smiled, reaching up on her tiptoes to sloppily kiss him on the cheek. ‘Mickey, why can’t you be _nice_ like Ian?’

‘Because you’re my sister and you have to like me, even if I’m a dick to you,’ Mickey suggested, dodging his sister’s slap.

‘Don’t be _rude_ , Mickey,’ Mandy said, tutting at him. ‘Where’s my present?’

‘At home. We’ll give it to you on Tuesday,’ Ian said. ‘Oh, more people just arrived. Go greet them.’

‘I should, shouldn’t I?’ Mandy nodded seriously, letting them go so she could teeter towards the open door again.

‘Bar,’ Mickey said, pushing Ian in the right direction.

‘I know where the bar is, Mick. I have been here before,’ Ian murmured, frowning back at Mickey as they met a wall of other people taking advantage of the open bar.

‘Hey, watch it, fucker,’ a burly man growled, turning around to see who had bumped into them.

Mickey peeked around the side of Ian to see none other than Terry Milkovich standing in front of them. ‘Shit, sorry,’ Mickey said, stepping out and away from behind Ian, putting as much distance between them as he could. ‘Didn’t know you were out of prison.’

‘Course not, you fuckin’ moved out,’ Terry said, narrowing his eyes at his youngest son, before turning his attention to Ian. ‘Who the fuck’re you?’

‘Ian Gallagher, sir,’ Ian said, standing straighter. ‘I’m Mickey’s –’

‘Friend,’ Mickey interrupted quickly, seeing where Ian was going with that sentence. Fuck what Ian had to say about it, fuck Mickey’s own plans of coming out, it wasn’t going to happen today. ‘We were in the army together.’

‘Army, huh?’ Terry said, looking Ian up and down. ‘Bit faggy lookin’ for the army.’

‘Nah, he and Mandy had a thing before the guy she’s with now,’ Mickey said quickly. ‘Speaking of, we should go see her.’

‘Yes,’ Ian said. ‘Let’s go see her, _friend_.’

Mickey could tell Ian was restraining himself by the way he was flexing his fingers against his thighs. ‘Yeah, good idea. We’ll get drinks later,’ Mickey said, turning and walking briskly towards the exit, pushing through the crowd of people.

As expected, Ian followed him outside and cornered him against the exterior of the bar. ‘What the fuck was that, Mickey?’

‘Look,’ Mickey started. ‘My dad would’ve killed us _both_ if you said what you were going to say.’

‘What the fuck did you think I was going to say?’

Mickey looked around before leaning up, closer to Ian’s face. ‘ _Boy_ friend,’ he hissed.

‘Thought you said that wasn’t a bad thing?’ Ian hissed back. ‘If you _don’t_ want my dick in your fucking ass on a “nightly basis”, you could’ve fucking _said_.’

‘Are you not listening to what I’m saying? He. Would. Have. Killed. Us. Both,’ Mickey said, enunciating each word slowly.

Ian laughed in disbelief, shook his head and started back towards their apartment without another word.

Mickey was left staring at the vacant space where Ian had been, until he started out of his daze and ran after Ian. ‘Ay, hold the fuck up! _Now_ where the fuck are you going?’

‘Home!’ Ian replied, not bothering to turn around.

Mickey decided it would probably be best to follow Ian, but keep his distance, because if he got Ian started into any more of a fight than they already were, then he would completely blow his top, and that was a can of shit that Mickey did _not_ want to open right now. It took less time to get back to the apartment than it normally would have, because Ian was stalking off at a rather quick pace, and it felt like he was only picking up speed.

Ian reached their apartment first, and by the time Mickey arrived, the door had been left open, and Ian was pacing up and down the small living area, waiting for Mickey to arrive back.

Mickey shut the door carefully and took off his coat as he prepared for the onslaught from Ian. When it didn’t come, and Ian continued pacing, Mickey sighed heavily. ‘Say it. Whatever is on your mind, say it.’

Ian stopped and looked over to where Mickey was standing, leaning against the couch. ‘I’m fucking offended you introduced me as a friend, to be quite honest.’

Mickey groaned. ‘My dad would’ve killed us both, Ian!’

‘You should fucking let him! A life in hiding isn’t a fucking life at all! Why don’t you get that?’

‘You don’t seem to realise that I could’ve come out and avoided going into the Goddamn army, Ian! The one thing, _one thing_ , I feared more than going to war to get fucking _shot_ at was getting shot at by my own fucking _father_ because of what I am! You think I like hiding? It’s fucking difficult having to stop myself from touching you around other people, and I fucking _hate_ it!’

‘Then just come out!’ Ian cried. ‘Worst case scenario, we end up dead, but we would be free, Mickey! _You_ would be free! They would have no leverage over you, and you wouldn’t have to be scared of slipping up around them!’

‘I can’t just come out!’ Mickey roared back. ‘You and your perfect fucking family might be perfectly fucking okay with you going around shoving your dick in all my fucking orifices, but I would be killed by mine! I can’t be gay to them!’

‘Yes, you can!’

‘You don’t get it, Ian. You have no idea how hard this is for me.’

‘Then _tell_ me.’

Mickey rubbed his eyes with the heels of his palms. ‘Look. It was hard enough for me to admit it to myself, and then _you_ came along, and you’re so... So...’

‘So what?’ Ian asked suspiciously.

‘So damn _happy_ with who you are!’

‘What the fuck is that supposed to mean?!’

‘You’re gay and you’re happy with it and your family knows and doesn’t care! I was raised to _hate_ gay people and everything they stood for. Do you know what it’s like to grow up hating yourself because of something you can’t help?’

Ian was quiet for a few moments. ‘No. My family has always been incredibly supportive, and I suppose you’re right that I don’t know what it was like for you, because I can’t think of family being anything _but_ supportive, because they’re family and they’re supposed to love you no matter what.’

‘Not mine.’

‘I know, I get it.’

‘If you got it, then you wouldn’t be fucked off that I didn’t introduce you as my boyfriend,’ Mickey looked down to his feet and mumbled something to himself.

‘Sorry,’ Ian said. ‘What was that?’

‘I said,’ Mickey replied slowly, lifting his head to look Ian in the eyes. ‘It would be easier on everyone if I just didn’t have a boyfriend.’

Ian blinked. ‘Are you saying you want to break up?’

‘I don’t know _what_ the fuck I’m saying.’

‘But you think it would be easier to break up than have to deal with my one little request?’

‘Your one little request? _Little_?’ Mickey threw his hands in the air. ‘You want me to put my neck under the guillotine that is my fucking father and risk my fucking _life_ because you feel slightly put out by not being introduced as my boyfriend? Where the _fuck_ do you get off, man?’

Ian stood and crossed his arms over his chest. ‘So you’re saying you want to hide me for the rest of your life because you’re scared of how your father might react?’

‘Are you serious right now? I lived with that asshole for nearly my whole life, and you think you know him better than I do? His version of a hug is a pistol whip. When I was younger, I had bottles thrown at me if I dropped something when I tripped over the piles of trash on the floor. I was hit and punched so fucking often, I thought it was normal to have purple and yellow patches all over your skin, and that the other kids had something wrong with them because they didn’t,’ Mickey moved a few steps closer to Ian and stared defiantly up at him. ‘My father’s natural reaction to everything is violence, so don’t try to tell me he only _might_ react badly if I came out to him. I know exactly what he would do.’

Ian gave a long suffering sigh. ‘Just come out to him, Mick. I’ll support you the whole way, and if things get ugly, I’ll be right there to back you up.’

‘Are you even listening to what I’m saying? You don’t get it! No! I ain’t no faggot, Ian!’

Ian’s previously strong expression faltered. ‘What?’ he asked, voice wilted. ‘What did you just say?’

‘I said that you don’t get it,’ Mickey replied. ‘And you don’t.’

‘No, after that,’ Ian said, biting his lip and not giving Mickey a chance to reply. ‘You said you “ain’t no faggot”.’

Mickey knew he had done wrong, and said something bad, but what was his signature move? Going on the defence. ‘I’m not.’

Ian shut his eyes and turned away, taking a deep breath, before he turned back to Mickey with a completely blank expression. ‘So what now?’

‘I’m fucking done,’ Mickey said, grabbing his coat. _No,_ his brain screamed. _No, don’t do that, what are you doing?_ ‘We’re done.’

‘We’re done?’ Ian asked.

‘We’re fucking done,’ Mickey confirmed. ‘I’ll be back sometime during the week to get my stuff.’

Ian opened his mouth to protest, but Mickey had already opened the door and stormed out. ‘Don’t,’ he said weakly. ‘Don’t go.’

There was no reply, and Ian’s world shattered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm sorry
> 
> i went there.
> 
> [in case you have any complaints about the amount of angst in this fic...](http://im-not-his-keeper.tumblr.com/)


	16. Untake This Heart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> told you were were getting into the lyrics for chapter titles. this one is from 'unkiss me' by maroon five.

When Mandy crashed through her door at one a.m., Lip close on her heels, the last thing she expected to see was her brother sitting on the floor with his head in his hands, and an empty whiskey bottle beside him.

‘Mickey?’ she asked. ‘What are you doing here? How did you get in?’

‘I have a key,’ Mickey said quietly. ‘I didn’t know where else to go.’

Mandy exchanged a look with Lip, and he nodded. ‘I’ll leave you two alone,’ he said, going off to the bathroom or bedroom or something.

Mandy waited for him to go, and for the sound of a shutting door to echo through the small apartment, before she closed the front door and went to sit in front of Mickey. ‘What’s up? Why aren’t you at home?’

Mickey raised his head, and looked at her with red eyes. ‘Broke up.’

‘What? You and Ian? You broke up?’ she asked, eyebrows inching towards her hairline. ‘No, I don’t believe it.’

‘Yeah, well. You should,’ Mickey said sullenly. ‘I dumped him.’

Mandy blinked, before she hit him on the arm. ‘Are you fucking _crazy_? Why would you do that?’

‘Not your concern.’

‘Uh, yeah. It kinda is. If you’re gonna come into my house, drink my Goddamn whiskey, then mope about on my floor, I think I have a reason to know why.’

Mickey sniffed and rubbed his eyes. ‘He wanted me to come out to everyone, including dad.’

‘What? What did you say?’

‘Told him that would get me killed,’ Mickey thumbed his bottom lip and looked back down. ‘And, uh.’

‘And what?’

‘Told him I ain’t no faggot.’

Mandy’s eyes softened. ‘He didn’t take that very well, I’m guessing.’

‘He didn’t really say anything except “what now?” so... I don’t know,’ Mickey huffed in frustration. ‘I don’t know anything. It was in the heat of the moment, and I could see how hurt he was, and I didn’t do anything or say anything.’

Seeing her brother on the verge of tears, Mandy sighed and pulled his head to her shoulder, wrapping her thin arms tightly around his back. ‘Mickey.’

He nodded, clutching at the fabric of her dress as tears leaked from his eyes. ‘I know, Mands.’

‘You’ve gotta fix this,’ she said. ‘No matter what it costs you, you gotta fix it.’

‘I didn’t even do anything,’ Mickey protested weakly into his sister’s shoulder. ‘I said he didn’t get it and he doesn’t. He wants me to come out and get killed. Because you know as well as I do that that’s exactly what’s gonna happen.’

‘What did he say when you told him that?’

‘Said he’d support me and even if dad tried to kill us that it would be okay because we would be free either way.’

Mandy pulled him back and gripped the sides of his face, forcing him to look her in the eyes. ‘Let me get this straight. Ian said he would be okay to die for you, and you broke up with him?’

Mickey nodded. ‘When you put it like that, it sounds like I made a mistake.’

‘No matter how I put it, you _have_ made a mistake!’ Mandy said, rolling her eyes. ‘You’re an idiot, and you need to go back to him.’

‘I can’t. Not now.’

‘Soon you will. You’ll need to. In the meantime, I suppose you can stay here for a few days,’ she sighed, standing up. ‘But right now, it’s my birthday, and I’m going to go spend the rest of it in my bedroom, with my boyfriend.’

Mickey nodded. ‘Sorry I ruined the mood or whatever.’

‘Shit, if you’re apologising, you must really be broken, huh?’

Mickey nodded and hauled himself onto the couch. ‘Just leave me here to die.’

‘Don’t be so dramatic,’ Mandy said, going away for a few seconds and returning with a blanket and pillow. ‘If you’re going to “die” then at least have a blanket and stuff so you’re comfy.’

Mickey lifted his head to shove the pillow underneath, and half heartedly flapped the blanket over himself. As Mandy turned to leave again, Mickey said quietly, ‘Mands?’

‘Yeah?’ Mandy asked, turning around to face him again.

‘Thanks,’ he mumbled. ‘For... this.’

She nodded. ‘No problem. Night, Mick.’

 

* * *

 

The “few days” Mandy had said Mickey could stay with her turned into a few weeks. Thankfully, Mickey had been back to his and Ian’s apartment to retrieve clothes, so he wasn’t wearing the same few items day in and day out.

Mickey had gone home while he knew Ian would be at work, though he secretly hoped that Ian would actually be at the apartment, and he would be able to see him, even if it turned into a fight. Mostly because fighting Ian was a lot like fucking Ian. They both played dirty and it hurt because they knew each other’s every weakness and weren’t really afraid to exploit it in order to win.

Loving Ian was a much gentler affair, and Mickey _craved_ it, even after only a few days. The casual, lingering touches when they made breakfast in the mornings, the soft sighs Ian would make when Mickey ran his fingers through his short red strands, the way Ian would run his fingertips over Mickey’s skin, right before they both fell asleep. Their relationship was built on touches. Small, gentle gestures that made up for all the times they hadn’t been able to do this with one another.

Granted, Mickey also missed the harder parts of Ian, but sex was easier to find than love. Maybe not good sex, not the way Ian did it, but sex, nonetheless.

Thing is, Mickey was completely ruined for anyone else after Ian. He didn’t want to spend his life directing someone on how to push his buttons when he had Ian, and Ian just _knew_. He knew everything there was to know about Mickey. The way he felt, and thought, and worked. Ian knew. And Mickey knew the same things about Ian. They clicked, plain and simple. Like cogs in a machine, they depended on the other to keep on doing so.

But Mickey had thrown it away, because he knew that Ian was right. He hated hiding, he knew it would be better to come out, but that was something he was just too afraid to do, and not even the complete support of Ian could help him.

In any case, Ian wasn’t at the apartment when Mickey went to pick up a few things. He briefly considered writing Ian a note to say where he was, and that he was sorry, but he figured that with everything Ian knew about him, he would be able to figure that much out for himself.

And so, Mickey trooped back to Mandy’s place, and set himself up on her couch. He dumped his bag of clothes at the foot of the couch, and put his bag of alcohol on the small table in front of it.

Mickey pulled out a bottle of something – he didn’t know or care what – and cracked open the lid. He wasn’t done moping about the state of his love life yet. He probably wouldn’t finish moping until he was back with Ian, and he might’ve been okay with that.

 

* * *

 

‘Mickey.’

‘Mm.’

_‘Mickey.’_

‘What?’

Mandy sat on his feet and yanked the blanket away from his head, exposing it to the morning sun. ‘This has to stop. Get the fuck outta bed.’

‘No,’ Mickey grumbled, reaching blindly for the blanket. ‘Fuck off.’

‘Get up. Get your ass to Ian’s, and apologise for being an asshole.’

‘I wasn’t being an asshole. He doesn’t get it.’

‘Then go over then and fucking _explain_ it to him!’ Mandy slapped the back of Mickey’s thigh and smiled in satisfaction at his quiet yelp. ‘Tell him you’ll do it in your own time, and not to pressure you.’

‘No!’ Mickey whined. ‘He doesn’t–’

‘Mikhailo, I swear to God, if you say “he doesn’t get it” one more fucking time, I’m gonna rip your balls off and shove them down your throat,’ Mandy said dangerously, slapping his hand away as it inched closer to the edge of the blanket. ‘Get your ass off my couch, go see your boyfriend, and you fucking _make_ him get it. You can hardly blame Ian for not understanding if your natural instinct is to run away when someone starts to take an interest in your wellbeing.’

‘That’s the problem!’ Mickey said, throwing his hands up and forgoing any further sleep.

‘What, that he cares? _Caring_ is a problem?’

‘Yes!’

‘Mick, I know you’re a Milkovich and all, but even for us, saying that someone cares is a problem is a bit fucked up. Normal people _care_ for each other. Ian’s family _cares_. Fiona had me around every other night for dinner while you and Ian were away, did you know that?’ Mandy sighed and eased up off Mickey’s feet so he could swing them onto the floor ad leave her sitting on the couch. ‘She took me in more than a few times, because I didn’t want to be at home with dad by myself. She looked after me because she cares. That’s what the Gallaghers do. Care. So you can’t blame them for that.’

Mickey blinked at her. ‘Caring is a weakness.’

‘Forget that shit dad told you,’ Mandy said, standing up. ‘Ian cares, the Gallaghers care, and they’re stronger because of it. Let Ian in. Let him help.’

‘He’ll get killed,’ Mickey mumbled. ‘I don’t want him to die.’

‘He went to Vietnam with you, Mick. Standing up to Terry with you is a risk he’s willing to take, and you should let him. He cares, and he can help you. _Let him_ ,’ Mandy stood and smoothed down her dress. ‘I have to get to work, and you have to fix this. Go find Ian.’

Mickey bit his lip, and after a few moments of an intense staring competition with his sister, he nodded. ‘I’ll try.’

‘Good. Nothing will ever come from anything if you _don’t_ try.’

‘You’re probably right,’ Mickey admitted.

Mandy smiled, a twinkle in her eye. ‘I’m always right, haven’t you figured that out yet? It’s why women were invented. To think for you idiot men.’

Mickey cracked a small smile as his sister turned and left for work. He couldn’t help but think that he was kinda lucky to have a sister like Mandy to keep his ass in line.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> unnecessarily angsty chapter title but whatever. (sorry for setting everyone's feelings on fire with the previous chapter btw.) (i just really love writing angst.) (be glad there's not more bc i wanted to put in more.)
> 
> [you know where to find me~](http://im-not-his-keeper.tumblr.com/)


	17. Reaching

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~only a short chapter i know~

_Mud, blood, and metal._

_There was little else to see, smell, taste, hear, or be covered in. Mud, blood, and metal was everywhere. Mud covered his entire body, blood was dripping from gashes all over his body, making little red rivers that stood out against the brown sludge, and bullets were zipping past his head, grazing the sides of his helmet._

_He thrashed around in the mud, trying to move his legs from where they had been sucked into the deep marshes. He needed to get out and he needed to get away, because if he didn’t, the one he loved would be unprotected and he would never know if he died. He would take on the entirety of Hell’s army to save his beloved, and right now, it felt like he was._

_He was unarmed, with the exception of his empty gun. His water canteen was bone dry, much like the back of his throat. He had no energy, and every last drop of his willpower had been depleted. It was all he could do to not give up completely, accept his fate, and lie down to die and sink into the ground to become a bed of fertiliser for the next year’s crops._

_Screaming rang out around him as the fight raged on, turning the ground red, and littering it with empty shell casings. Bodies fell, and it became difficult to tell the living from the dead, and the dead from the knee deep mud. He didn’t want to join those numbers._

_He surged forward, struggling against the pull and vacuum of the mud, calling for his beloved as he moved. ‘Where are you? I need to find you!’_

_The answer came from another. ‘He’s here.’_

_He broke free from the grasp of the ground and fought against the grasses to get to where his beloved lay on firmer ground. ‘What happened? Is he okay?’_

_‘No,’ his beloved croaked. ‘Got shot.’_

_He looked down to see the barely distinguishable bullet hole, and the dark red blood dribbling out of it. ‘Oh God. You’re going to be okay, it’s going to be okay.’_

_‘It’s not going to be okay. Don’t lie to me, man,’ his beloved replied, hacking up more blood, spitting it onto the ground beside him. ‘Don’t lie to me.’_

_He bit his tongue hard enough to draw blood. He didn’t want to say it, so he lied anyway. ‘It’s going to be okay.’_

_‘Just fucking say it,’ his beloved said, catching his attention with a clear eyed gaze. ‘Say it.’_

_‘I won’t.’_

_‘Say it.’_

_He grabbed the hand of his beloved, because who gave a shit if everyone knew about them now? ‘You’re gonna die.’_

_‘Yes.’_

_‘And there’s nothing I can do to stop it, or help you, and it’s my fault.’_

_‘It’s not your fault.’_

_‘It’s my fault. If I hadn’t... If I had been faster...’_

_‘There’s nothing you could’ve done.’ A deep, shuddering gasp went through the body of his beloved. ‘I’m going to die.’_

_‘No.’_

_‘Yes, I’m sorry. There’s nothing you can do.’_

_‘Don’t leave me, I love you.’_

_‘No. You don’t,’ his beloved laughed before tilting his head back to look at the sky. ‘If you did, we wouldn’t be in this situation.’_

_‘What does that mean?’_

_‘It means, if you loved me, if you_ ever _loved me, you would never have left my side.’_

 

* * *

 

Mickey shot up, instinctually reaching for Ian on the other side of the bed.

That’s right. He didn’t have Ian to comfort him anymore. Now if he had a bad dream, he would have to get through it himself. Mickey hadn’t had to do that in so long, but then again, he had rarely had bad dreams when he was with Ian, anyway.

And now he had no Ian at all. In his half-conscious mind, Mickey couldn’t help but wonder what he had done by ending things with Ian. All he had done was suggest Mickey come out, and then offered him support. Maybe that was why he freaked and finished it. Mickey wasn’t used to getting support from people, or having them show him any affection whatsoever, or having someone else _worry_ about him. Ian had, and Mickey had been stumped by it.

He still wasn’t sure why the hell Ian had wanted to be with him, but he did, and he shouldn’t have let that slip through his fingers. So what had he done?

Fucked everything up. That’s what.

 

* * *

 

At the same time as Mickey, Ian turned over, and patted the empty mattress next to him, searching for someone that wasn’t there. No Mickey had been there for several weeks, now, and he hadn’t slept so bad since before he had first moved in.

 _Mickey_.

Ian sighed, wanting nothing more than to feel Mickey’s calloused fingers lace with his own, or hear nothing more than him swearing as he stubbed his toe as he got out of bed in the dark. Mickey consumed his mind and it made Ian homesick to think about.

Had he pushed too far, or expected too much from him? Ian hadn’t thought it too much, and maybe that was the problem. Maybe Mickey was right, and Ian didn’t get it.

So what it all came down to was that either Ian apologised, and got down on his knees to beg Mickey to reconsider his choice, or Ian would have to wait for Mickey and learn to live with the nightmares again.


	18. Baby, Are You Lonesome Now?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter title from 'runaways' by my faves, the killers.
> 
> also, happy birthday me! i love giving myself angst as a birthday present :3

After Mickey had stormed out, Ian had taken a deep breath and calmly moved to sit on the edge of the couch. He hung his head in his hands and pressed the heels of his palms to his eyes in an attempt to stop himself from crying. ‘Fuck,’ he muttered. ‘Fuck, fuck, fucking fuck.’ What was he supposed to do now? Chase Mickey? That wouldn’t help the situation in the slightest.

Ian decided to give Mickey some space to breathe and let him go, even if it physically hurt him to listen to Mickey’s footsteps fading out as he walked away. He knew that when Mickey was upset, he needed to be alone for a bit, so that he could clear his head and think rationally about what his next step would be. He would probably head to Mandy’s, because usually Mickey would come to Ian with his problems, but when Ian _was_ the problem, she would step in. She had, after all, been doing it for years before Ian and Mickey had even met.

Ian looked around his apartment, and suddenly realised how strangely empty it was without Mickey there. Had it always looked like this? The colours of everything suddenly seemed too bright and cheerful, and Ian wanted nothing more than to sit in a dark, blank world, because that was how he felt inside now that Mickey had left.

It had taken only a few minutes for the world to lose its charm now Mickey wasn’t in Ian’s anymore, no matter how temporary it might be. He couldn’t help but think how pathetic that was. He had become a lovesick heroine, or something. Melodramatic, maybe, might be a better word for it.

Didn’t stop it from perfectly describing his feelings in that instant, though.

Instead of wallowing in self pity and alcohol, Ian decided to go to bed, and hope like hell that he fell asleep quickly, and didn’t dream of Mickey.

 

* * *

 

_‘Ian, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it,’ Mickey twisted his hands together nervously. ‘I know you only had my best interests in mind, and I overreacted.’_

_Ian smiled, taking Mickey’s hands in his own and keeping them still. ‘It’s okay. I pushed you too hard, so it’s only fair that you pushed back.’_

_‘Really?’_

_‘Yeah. I’m sorry too, Mick.’_

_Mickey bit his lip as he looked up. ‘Does this mean we’re good?’_

_‘We’re good,’ Ian nodded._

_‘Does this mean I can come home?’_

_Ian pulled Mickey into his arms and buried his face in the shorter man’s hair. ‘Of course.’_

_‘Good. I missed you,’ Mickey sighed, melting into Ian’s embrace._

_‘I missed you too.’_

_‘I love you.’_

‘I’ll always love you,’ Ian mumbled, half asleep and not entirely aware he was dreaming. His arms twitched, and he woke up a bit more, cracking an eye open to be met with darkness. ‘Fuck,’ he muttered, turning over. ‘Why do I always dream this shit.’

Ian sighed deeply, and wiggled himself around a little bit to get comfortable. With any luck, he would fall straight back asleep, and have no recollection of the dream in the morning.

For once, his brain did what he wanted, and he barely remembered waking up in the middle of the night, professing his love for someone who wasn’t there to hear it anymore.

 

* * *

 

Ian noticed faster than he probably should have that Mickey had been by to pick up some of his stuff. The only reason Ian actually really realised was because he had gone into Mickey’s drawers to get one of his shirts to sleep in. Even though they were a bit too small for him, and Mickey would most likely end up pissed off that he had stretched them, Ian had taken to wearing one to bed, because it made him feel a bit closer to Mickey. Wherever the fuck Mickey was now – most likely still Mandy’s place – the distance hurt Ian and sent painful twinges through his core. It ached deep within his bones, and nothing would soothe it, except Mickey returning to his arms.

Ian was sad to find Mickey had left no note, but strangely happy to find that Mickey had left a few of his things behind at the apartment – like his cologne, and his favourite pair of shoes. It meant that maybe Mickey would be coming back, and Ian clung to that thought like a drowning man to a life raft. He had to keep reminding himself that he had gone longer than a week to see Mickey, but then he had to remember that during that time, he hadn’t exactly been in love with him quite yet.

But now it felt like he was gasping for air above the turbulent seas that was his and Mickey’s relationship. His little raft meant everything to him right now, and there was no fucking way he was going to let it go. What was that phrase about captains going down with their ships? Or the band keeps playing? Was Ian steering a ship doomed to crash into an iceberg or something? Probably. Mickey had almost been the death of him more than a few times, and surely destroying Ian’s life while he waited for Mickey to come back to him was similar to that.

Ian had always thought of Mickey as an ocean, and now living without him was like being stranded in the middle of a fucking desert.

 

* * *

 

Lip had managed to drag Ian from seclusion in his apartment out to the Gallaghers’ for dinner. It was about ten days since Mickey had ended things between the two of them, and Ian had spent the majority of that time sitting around at home, seeing Mickey in places he wasn’t.

Debbie had gone to bed already, and Carl had gone up not long after, leaving Ian sitting on the couch with Lip and Fiona, beers in hand and the radio buzzing quietly from the corner.

‘So, Ian, how’re things going?’

Ian’s eyes snapped up from his bottle to where Fiona was sitting on the armchair, watching him expectantly. ‘What?’

Fiona sighed. ‘I said, how are things going? We don’t see you very much anymore.’

Ian shrugged and ignored the question in favour of dragging his finger through the condensation on his bottle to draw patterns in the moisture.

‘How’s Mickey?’ Fiona asked, trying a different line of inquiry.

Ian paused in his drawing and leaned back into the couch, before dropping his head onto the back of the seat to stare up at the ceiling and let out a long sigh.

‘Ian and Mickey broke up,’ Lip provided, seeing his sister looking towards Ian with concern. ‘About a week and a half ago on the night of Mandy’s birthday thing at the Alibi.’

‘What?’ Fiona squeaked. ‘Oh, Ian. I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to –’

‘It’s fine,’ Ian croaked.

Lip rolled his eyes. ‘Mickey was sitting on Mandy’s floor when we got back to her place after the party.’

So he _was_ staying at Mandy’s. ‘What did he say?’ Ian asked quietly, looking away from the ceiling and at his brother.

‘Don’t know. I left them to talk and sat in the bedroom,’ Lip shrugged.

‘How is he?’

‘No better than you, honestly.’

Ian sighed again. ‘I shouldn’t have pushed him.’

Lip put a comforting hand on Ian’s shoulder. ‘It wasn’t your fault. Probably more of a breakdown in communication than anything.’

‘Did Mandy tell you what happened?’

‘Nope. And neither did Mickey. Don’t have to know, really. I can pretty much guess what happened after I saw Mickey introduce you to his father.’

Ian nodded. ‘Yeah. Maybe I overreacted.’

‘Nah, you just want what’s best for him,’ Lip shrugged. ‘Not your fault if he doesn’t want to listen, and there’s nothing you can do to make him, unless you drop the subject and don’t push it again.’

‘But –’

‘No, Ian. You have to drop it, even if you don’t want to. You have to support Mickey in what he’s doing, and what _he_ wants to do, not what you think he should do, and then push him towards doing it.’

‘Ah,’ Fiona interrupted quietly, piecing the conversation together. ‘You tried to get him to come out, huh?’

Ian nodded. ‘It would be for the best.’

‘Not necessarily,’ Fiona said thoughtfully. ‘His father is Terry Milkovich, right?’

‘Right.’

‘Mm,’ she nodded. ‘I’m not surprised he won’t do it. That man is dangerous to everyone, especially anyone who doesn’t fit into his cookie cutter shape of the ideal person. A racist, homophobic jerk, in my opinion.’

‘I know,’ Ian said. ‘I told him I would support him no matter what, and that –’

‘Ian, we know you, and we know exactly what you would’ve said,’ Fiona said gently. ‘We know that you still love Mickey, and that you’ll probably love him for a long time, yet. We’re here, and we will support _you_ no matter what, whether that be to comfort you, or to celebrate your ten year anniversary with Mickey somewhere down the line, because this was just a little bump in the road.’

‘Yeah, well. It looks like this was the road falling out from underneath us, rather than just a little bump.’

Fiona patted him on the shoulder. ‘If he’s in his right mind at _all_ , Mickey will find his way back to you, and you to him. Some things are just meant to be, and you two? I think you’re destined for each other.’

Ian rolled his eyes. ‘Fate? Destiny? That’s a load of crap, Fi.’

Fiona shrugged. ‘You think what you want, I’ll think what I want, and either way – you’ll find each other again.’

‘Sure, whatever. Knowing him, I’ll be dead before he comes round.’

‘Or maybe this is just the push he needs?’ Fiona offered.

‘Let’s hope so,’ Lip said seriously. ‘Moping Ian sucks.’

‘Not anymore,’ Ian mumbled.

The other two Gallaghers let out a collective groan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> only a few chapters left now!
> 
> [come let me know what you think (if u want)~](http://im-not-his-keeper.tumblr.com/)


	19. Where You Became It All For Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the angst it done. y'all can breathe again! chapter title from 'sober' by broods.

Turns out that perhaps Fiona was on to something with all that talk of fate, and destiny, and finding each other.

Then again, coincidences happen, and Mickey and Ian both choosing the same bar to drink at was not exactly something Ian would label the work of Fate. At this point, they were basically two separate entities of a shared consciousness, like the first humans created by Zeus – one body with two heads, four arms, and four legs, but split down the middle and destined to spend eternity searching for their other half.

Ian had no doubt at this point that Mickey was his soul mate, so if the myth was true, then maybe Fiona was right. They were destined to find each other, and always would. That didn’t mean that the three Fates and their one shared eyeball had anything to do with it, though.

Initially, when Ian walked into the Alibi, three weeks to the day since Mickey broke up with him, he had a one track mind and sat down at the bar to immediately order a couple of shots.

The bartender raised an eyebrow as Ian downed the shots one after another. ‘More shots? Or do you want something else.’

Ian shrugged. ‘Beer, or something.’

She nodded and poured him a beer, before idly beginning to clean glasses. ‘You okay, sugar?’

Ian shrugged again. ‘Yes. No. I don’t know.’

‘Relationship problems?’

‘Mm. Me and my... partner. We broke up a couple of weeks ago, and I don’t know what to do about it.’

‘You want ‘em back? Still in love?’ she asked, tucking a few stray strands of hair behind her ear.

‘Yeah,’ Ian sighed. ‘I feel like it was kind of my fault we split.’

‘Oh yeah? What’d you do? Someone would have to be crazy to throw you away,’ she smiled.

‘I, ah. I suppose I asked too much of him and didn’t understand why he wouldn’t just... Do it,’ Ian explained, forgoing the use of gender neutral pronouns.

‘So it’s a guy, huh?’ the bartender tapped her chin thoughtfully. ‘Guys, I know a little bit about. Girls, too. I suppose the question is: if you somehow manage to get back with him, are you prepared to let go of whatever issue you had, and whatever it was you wanted from him?’

Ian nodded. ‘I think that right now, I would be happy to just have him back. I understand his point of view, and why he couldn’t... y’know.’

‘Well, I think if you’re meant to be, you’re meant to be,’ the bartender shrugged.

‘My sister said the same thing,’ Ian muttered.

‘Maybe your sister is on to something. Is your guy a little dark haired, blue eyed someone, by chance? I had almost this exact same conversation with him a little while ago. He’s been nursing beers at one of the booths for the better part of an hour,’ she tilted her head towards where Ian and Mickey always sat, and gave Ian a meaningful look.

Ian looked to his table and saw Mickey sitting there, looking quite morose. He turned back to the bartender. ‘Yeah, that’s him.’

‘Think it might be a sign?’ she asked. ‘Fate, like your sister said?’

Ian smiled. ‘Maybe.’

‘I think you should go talk to him. You seem like you’ve got it sorted, and he looks like he's miserable as sin, sitting there alone.’

‘What if he doesn’t want to talk to me?’ Ian asked.

‘If he’s come to the same conclusion as you, I think you’ll find he will.’

‘Okay,’ Ian nodded. ‘Wish me luck. Thanks..?’

‘Moira,’ she smiled. ‘I’m Moira.’

‘I’m Ian. Thanks for the advice, Moira,’ Ian smiled, hopping down off his stool.

‘No problem. Good luck,’ she winked.

Ian nodded at her once more, before making his way over to Mickey’s table. He didn’t really know what to say, so he just stood there awkwardly for a few moments, waiting for Mickey to notice him.

Mickey looked up, a scowl etched on his face until he saw who it was. ‘Ian,’ he breathed.

Ian smiled hearing his name escape Mickey’s lips. ‘Hey.’

‘Do you...’ Mickey bit his lip. ‘Do you wanna sit?’

Ian nodded, and slid into the booth across from Mickey. They were closer now than they had been in weeks, and it gave Ian a weird, tingling sort of pain to be this close, yet so far at the same time. ‘How are you?’

‘I’m okay. How are you?’

‘Been better.’

Mickey nodded, and looked down into his glass. ‘I’m sorry,’ he mumbled. ‘For what I did.’

‘I’m sorry for pushing you,’ Ian replied. ‘I get it, just for the record. I don’t want this to be something to keep us apart, Mick. I’ll drop the subject, and I’ll support you, no matter what your decision is.’

Mickey raised his eyes up to Ian’s. ‘I don’t want you to think you know what’s better for me than I do, Ian. I don’t _need_ you to push me –’

‘I know, I’m –’

‘Let me finish,’ Mickey said, shaking his head. ‘I know you just want to help me, and I’m sorry I wouldn’t let you. All you were doing was what you thought was right, but you can’t force me to make decisions for _my_ family based on _yours._ We might both be Southside, but that doesn’t mean you know shit about my family, okay?’

‘Okay. I’m sorry,’ Ian repeated. ‘I hope it’s not too late for us, because I don’t want anyone else. Ever. You’re it for me.’

‘It’s not too late,’ Mickey said quietly. ‘For you, it will never be too late.’

Ian’s face split into a grin, and he reached across the table, laying his hand flat with the palm facing up. He watched as Mickey bit his lip and looked around, before he carefully slid his hand into Ian’s. ‘I missed you, Mick.’

‘Missed you,’ Mickey agreed. ‘But um. Can I come home?’

‘Yeah. You can come home.’

 

* * *

 

They couldn’t get home fast enough, and barely bothered to shut the door before pulling clothes off, shedding the remainder of them as they walked backwards in the general direction of the bedroom. Three weeks felt like a lifetime to be parted, and the violent, needy nature of their kissing was proof of that.

‘Fuck, I missed you so much,’ Ian breathed, moving his fingertips lightly across the skin of Mickey’s back, as the shorter man worked his way down Ian’s throat and chest, leaving a trail of kisses and bite marks as he did.

Mickey smiled against Ian’s ribs and looked him in the eyes, smirking happily. ‘You wanna chit chat some more or you wanna get on me?’

Ian laughed and pushed Mickey back into a wall. He slotted his leg between Mickey’s, and moved his hands down to Mickey’s waist. ‘It’s been three weeks, Mick. A minute longer won’t kill you.’

‘Won’t kill _you_ either, but at this rate, I might,’ Mickey growled, nipping Ian’s shoulder.

‘Rude,’ Ian reprimanded lightly. He put his hands around the backs of Mickey’s thighs and lifted him, feeling Mickey wrap his legs around his waist. Ian chuckled, and carried him the few steps into the bedroom, before lowering the pair of them onto the bed. ‘Get the lube,’ Ian said, moving his mouth over Mickey’s torso.

Mickey sighed as Ian took him into his mouth, and flung an arm out, reaching blindly for the bottle in the drawer of his bedside table. He finally found the bottle and tossed it onto the bed by his knees.

Ian pulled away from Mickey to spread some lube onto his fingers and work Mickey open. He hummed to himself, and laughed when Mickey looked pointedly at him, with an expression that was a strange mix of pleasure and being utterly disgruntled.

‘Would you hurry the fuck up?’ Mickey said. ‘I would really like you to fuck me some time today, not next month.’

Ian grinned and slicked himself up. ‘Say please.’

‘Are you fucking serious right now?’ Mickey groaned.

Ian raised his eyebrows. ‘Say please,’ he repeated, twisting his fingers around inside Mickey, brushing lightly over his prostate.

‘Jesus fucking Christ, _please._ ’

Ian smiled triumphantly, and withdrew his fingers before entering Mickey in one fluid movement. ‘Shit,’ he sighed, feeling Mickey clench around him.

‘Are you gonna move now, or do I gotta ask nicely for that too?’

‘I forgot how fucking _chatty_ you are,’ Ian mumbled, pulling back and slamming back in again, effectively shutting Mickey up.

Mickey made a string of incoherent noises as Ian picked up the pace and set up a good rhythm. He hooked his ankles around Ian’s back, and moaned as he changed angles and tactics, hitting that good spot in Mickey over and over.

‘Fuck, fucking fuck,’ Mickey moaned, feeling himself near the end.

Ian laughed, his movements starting to get jerkier. ‘ _Mickey_.’

Mickey gasped and came over their stomachs, with Ian following him not soon after.

Ian collapsed onto the man underneath him and rolled away, because he knew Mickey wasn’t overly fond of being crushed. ‘God, I missed you so fucking much,’ he murmured.

Mickey grinned. ‘Missed you too.’

Ian smiled, and rolled briefly onto Mickey to press a quick kiss to his lips, before he pulled the blankets over them, and nestled into Mickey’s side, falling asleep a few minutes later.

 

* * *

 

When Mickey woke up the next morning, he was momentarily disoriented. After waking up to the sight of Mandy’s ceilings with their cracked green paint, it was weird seeing his own creamy coloured paint. Of course, it came flooding back to him, and he smiled to himself.

Mickey sat up and stretched, hearing his joints pop with a ridiculously satisfying noise, and climbed out of the bed so he could yank on a pair of pants and go find Ian.

Ian looked up as he saw Mickey enter the kitchen, and a smile lit up his face almost instantly. ‘I was just about to wake you. I made breakfast,’ he said, nodding towards two plates of eggs and bacon sitting on the small table on the other side of the bench. He came around and put two mugs of coffee on the table, and glanced at Mickey, who was still standing in the doorway. ‘You gonna come eat?’

Mickey’s stomach rumbled, and it hit him that he was actually kinda starving. ‘Right,’ he murmured, coming to sit with Ian. It felt kind of awkward for a few minutes as they ate silently, like having breakfast with a drunken one night stand the next morning, and you suddenly realise that wow, okay, this person is not someone I would fuck if I wasn’t completely and utterly inebriated.

But then Mickey remembered it was Ian. Ian, who he knew better than the back of his hand, and Ian who he loved and who loved him right back. There was no reason for this to be awkward at all, so Mickey cleared his throat and acted like the last three weeks hadn’t happened. ‘How did you sleep?’

‘Good,’ Ian nodded. ‘It was nice having someone to hold again.’

‘You didn’t...’ Mickey trailed off and made a vague gesture with his fork.

‘Didn’t what? Sleep with anyone? Mick, it was only three weeks,’ Ian paused. ‘Why, did you?’

‘Fuck off. Course I didn’t.’

Ian sighed and bit his lip, looking like he wanted to say something, but ultimately deciding against it. He shook his head at himself and went back to picking through his eggs.

‘For fuck’s sake, what?’ Mickey asked. ‘What do you want to say?’

‘It’s not important.’

‘Must be if you’re gonna stare at those eggs like they just shot your puppy. Spit it out, Gallagher.’

‘I don’t want to push it,’ Ian said quietly, after a few moments of quiet deliberation. ‘I don’t want to push _you_ when I’ve only just gotten you back.’

‘Is this about me coming out?’ Mickey asked, raising an eyebrow suspiciously. ‘You want to go down that path again?’

‘It’s not that I want to do that again, it’s just that I can see how unhappy you are having to hide from your family, and I don’t want to spend my life hiding us and acting in public like I don’t care about you, or whatever,’ Ian shrugged. ‘I understand why you don’t want to, and I know I’m asking a lot from you, but I don’t want you to do it for me, I want you to do it for you, and I’ll support you no matter what, but... You would be happier. We would be better,’ Ian huffed. ‘That’s all. That’s all I’m going to say, so don’t get pissy at me, okay? I’m going to take a shower.’

As Ian stood and walked past Mickey’s seat, he shot his hand out and grabbed Ian’s hand. ‘Is this what it’s gonna take to keep you happy?’ he asked, looking up at the redhead. ‘To keep you at all?’

Ian nodded slowly. ‘Yeah, I suppose it is.’

Mickey sighed. ‘Will you drop the subject if I promise to think about it?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Okay,’ Mickey turned Ian’s arm and kissed the inside of his wrist. ‘I’ll think about it.’

Ian smiled. ‘Thank you.’

‘Ian?’

‘Yeah?’

‘If you’re going in the shower, can I have the rest of your bacon?’ Mickey asked hopefully.

‘Yeah,’ Ian laughed and kissed his hair. ‘You can have my bacon.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kudos to you if you get my lil reference to greek mythology. as in, not the blatantly obvious one.


	20. May It Rage In Vain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THE PENULTIMATE CHAPTER. chapter title from 'flesh and bone' by my faves, the killers.

It had taken Mickey a little while to come to his conclusion, but he had never been one to do things half assed, and so he was steadfast in his resolve to come out. Ian said Mickey would be happier not having to hide, and although it would be fucking _weird_ having people know he was gay, Ian was right, because he would undoubtedly be happier.

They had just gone to bed, and Mickey was lying in bed with Ian, stroking his hands up and down the redhead’s back. ‘Ian?’

‘Mm?’ he lifted his head from Mickey’s chest to look up at him. ‘What’s up?’

‘Are you free this weekend?’ Mickey asked, half hoping Ian would say no.

He didn’t, of course. ‘Yeah, why?’

‘One of my brothers is getting out of prison this weekend, and it’s kind of a Milkovich tradition to throw a party, so do you wanna come with me?’

Ian hummed thoughtfully. ‘As a friend?’

‘If you want,’ Mickey bit his lip. ‘Though I was thinking as my boyfriend. Y’know, if that’s okay.’

‘If that’s okay? Yes, that’s okay,’ Ian twisted and kissed Mickey’s shoulder. ‘You’re gonna come out, then?’

Mickey nodded. ‘I think so. Preparing myself for the worst, and all that.’

‘It’ll be fine,’ Ian said soothingly. ‘While we’re on the topic, you wanna come to my house for dinner tomorrow?’

‘Yeah, alright. Is Mandy gonna be there?’

‘Probably. Why?’

‘I haven’t talked to her for nearly four days. She’ll be freaking out.’

Ian laughed. ‘I’m sure she’ll have figured it out.’

‘Let’s fucking hope so. She might kill me before my dad has the chance.’

‘Man, you really think someone is gonna kill you, huh?’ Ian said. ‘Either way, if we’re gonna die, we should make the most of the time we have left, right?’

Mickey grinned. ‘Right,’ he agreed, pulling Ian on top of him. ‘We should definitely make the most of it.’

 

* * *

 

Ian and Mickey were the last to the Gallaghers’ house for dinner. Naturally. As soon as they got inside, they were greeted with Mandy crying out, ‘Is that Ian?’

‘Yeah, it’s me,’ Ian replied.

‘My brother with you?’

Ian looked to Mickey, who was shaking his head vehemently _no_ , even though he’d have to face her at the dinner table later anyway.

Apparently the silence was clue enough, and Mandy stomped through the kitchen and into the living room to come up to her brother and punch him hard on the arm. ‘You fucking idiot! I’ve been worried sick about you! Why didn’t you tell me you were with Ian?’

‘Fuck, Mandy!’ Mickey cried, raising his arms to ineffectively protect himself from the way his sister was whaling on him. ‘I, fuck! Stop hitting me, Jesus!’

‘No! You’re a stupid idiot, and this is what stupid idiots _get_ for not telling their sisters that they went home with their ex, _four fucking days ago_!’ Mandy finished off with a super hard punch and turned her attention to Ian. ‘And _you_ ,’ she said. ‘You’re a dork.’

Ian blinked, expecting Mandy to start attacking him as well. ‘You’re not gonna hit me?’

‘No,’ she said, reaching up to hug him. ‘You’re okay, he’s a fucking idiot though.’

Mickey looked completely scandalised as he watched his boyfriend and sister embrace. ‘I get all that, and he gets a fucking _hug_? The fuck, Mandy?’

‘Excuse you,’ she said, letting Ian go. ‘I actually _like_ Ian.’

‘Aw, thanks, Mands,’ Ian smiled.

‘Oh, fuck you both,’ Mickey grumbled, rubbing his abused arm and making his way to the fridge for a beer.

‘So you got back with Mickey, then?’ Fiona asked, as Ian and Mandy entered the kitchen.

‘Yup,’ Ian said happily, stealing the beer from Mickey’s hand and taking a swig.

‘That’s good,’ Fiona smiled, stirring something on the stove. ‘You both happy now?’

‘Yeah, I think so,’ Ian nodded. ‘I hope so.’

‘We’re good,’ Mickey agreed. ‘I’m happy if you’re happy.’

‘I’m happy.’

‘Then so am I,’ Mickey shrugged. ‘Gimme my beer back, gingerbread.’

‘Whatever, short stack,’ Ian grinned, passing him the bottle.

‘Ay, watch who you’re calling short, Lucky Charms,’ Mickey said, holding the bottle possessively.

‘Both of you can shut the fuck up with the Goddamn nicknames, thank you very much,’ Mandy said, rolling her eyes and stealing Mickey’s beer, ignoring his protests.

‘Fuck you,’ Mickey frowned. ‘Everyone is drinking my beer but me.’

‘Trust me,’ Lip said, coming in from outside. ‘I don’t want my mouth to touch anything my brother’s dick has, by association.’

‘The fuck do you–’

‘His dick, your mouth. Your mouth, that bottle. That bottle, my mouth? Not happening,’ Lip said simply. ‘Dinner almost done, Fi?’

Fiona blinked. ‘What? Um, yeah. Call the other two down.’

‘No need,’ Debbie said, floating down from upstairs. ‘Your queen has arrived.’

‘No offence, Debs,’ Ian said, putting a placating hand on her shoulder. ‘But Mickey is my queen.’

‘Shut the fuck up, Gallagher,’ Mickey growled, lightly backhanding him across the chest.

‘You can’t be mad at me,’ Ian said, giving his boyfriend a winning smile. ‘Because I love you.’

Mickey rolled his eyes. ‘That’s not gonna get you out of everything, man.’

‘It’ll get me out of _most_ things, though.’

‘Maybe.’

‘You two are so adorable I might puke,’ Mandy announced. ‘Ooh, pasta.’

 

* * *

 

The night before the “just released from prison” party for Mickey’s brother, Ian wrapped his arms around Mickey as they got into bed, and pulled him tight against his chest. ‘I’m so proud of you, Mick.’

‘Why?’ Mickey mumbled into Ian’s shoulder. ‘Haven’t done anything yet.’

‘I know, but you’ve made the decision to, and I think that in itself is a pretty amazing feat,’ Ian explained. ‘So, I’m proud of you.’

Mickey nodded. ‘Okay.’

Ian waited for him to expand on that, but when there was no follow up, Ian frowned. ‘Okay? Is that all you’re gonna say?’

‘I don’t know what I’m supposed to say.’

‘I don’t know what you’re supposed to say, either. But maybe an “I’m proud of me, too,” would be one way to go.’

‘I’ll say that once it’s actually happened. Don’t wanna go congratulating myself for doing absolutely nothing,’ Mickey sighed and manoeuvred his head into a more comfortable position. ‘But right now, I just want to sleep. That okay with you?’

‘Yeah,’ Ian nodded and kissed Mickey’s hair. ‘Okay.’

 

* * *

 

Mickey was fidgeting. Not like little fidgeting, and stretching his fingers or something, but swinging his arms around and kicking stuff. Big fidgeting. Needless to say, it made walking with him towards the Milkovich house a rather strange experience, because his arms kept hitting Ian across the chest, or he would stop and kick at a fence or something. It was like walking with a larger than average, hyperactive three year old.

‘Nervous, Mick?’ Ian asked, blocking an arm from hitting him.

‘Wow, how the fuck did you figure that out?’ Mickey asked sarcastically.

‘One might say I have a talent for reading people,’ Ian replied loftily.

‘Fuck, man. I’d rather face incoming than my dad.’

‘Well,’ Ian said quietly, putting his hand on Mickey’s arm to stop him from flapping it around anymore. ‘If your dad is incoming, then one thing hasn’t changed.’

‘And what’s that?’ Mickey asked, stopping to stare expectantly up at Ian.

‘Well,’ Ian’s face softened. ‘You got me by your side to face it again.’

That got a smile from Mickey. ‘Yeah, I do. Just like old times, huh?’

‘Just like old times,’ Ian agreed, as they rounded the corner to the Milkovich House of Horrors. ‘Ready?’

‘I hope so.’

‘You’ll be fine,’ Ian murmured. ‘And I’ll be here if it all turns to shit, okay?’

‘I know,’ Mickey nodded, taking a deep breath as he and Ian approached the gate to the house. ‘Let’s do this.’

They climbed the steps and went straight into the house, because seriously, why would it be locked? No one in this neighbourhood had enough of a death wish to go into the Milkovich house uninvited, or to attempt to steal anything from inside. The only people who went into the Milkovich house unannounced were Milkoviches, or absolute fucking _idiots_.

Ian was unsure which he was. He was fucking one Milkovich and good friends with another, but then again, one could argue how exactly that made him an idiot.

Anyway, he still followed Mickey into the house.

‘Mick?’ Mandy’s voice floated towards them from somewhere inside the house.

‘Yeah, Mands,’ Mickey called back. ‘Me and Ian.’

‘Oh, Ian’s here too?’

‘Yup. Hi, Mandy!’ Ian called, unsure where he was directing his greeting. ‘Where are you?’

‘Kitchen,’ she replied.

Mickey navigated his way through the piles of bottles and who knows what else to lead Ian to the kitchen. ‘Food?’ Mickey asked.

‘Not right this second,’ Mandy said, narrowing her eyes. ‘You want a drink instead?’

‘I’m good for the moment,’ Ian smiled. ‘Is Lip here, too?’

‘Hah, no. He said he didn’t want to, so, y’know. He didn’t.’

‘That sounds like him,’ Ian muttered. ‘So, uh, where is everyone?’

‘Not back yet, or not turning up until later. Why?’

Ian shrugged nonchalantly. ‘No reason.’

‘Can’t wait to meet the rest of the clan Milkovich, huh?’

‘Mm,’ Ian hummed, giving Mickey a side glance. ‘Something like that.’

 

* * *

 

It wasn’t even really a party. Once the rest of the Milkoviches got home, they started making their way through the food and alcohol supplies, breaking out the weed and a selection of other drugs. Ian wasn't even expecting that much, and even _then_ , he was still mildly disappointed by the lacklustre atmosphere. He kept sneaking Mickey furtive glances, and received a lot of looks that meant _“In a minute, Jesus”_.

Finally, he couldn’t stand it anymore. He tapped Mickey on the knee to get his attention. ‘I’m going.’

‘Going?’ Mickey asked. ‘Okay, I guess I’ll see you back at the apartment then.’

‘No, don’t,’ Ian shook his head. ‘I know I said I would support you either way, but I’m not gonna sit here for the next five years waiting for you to speak up.’

‘Are you fucking seriously doing this right now?’ Mickey groaned. ‘Fine, whatever. Fuck you, man.’

Ian shrugged and stood up to leave.

As Mickey watched Ian wind his way through the random people scattered around, Mickey swore under his breath. _What the fuck ever._ He stood up and smacked his palm against a wall a few times. ‘’Scuse me, can I just get everyone’s attention for a moment?’

Someone turned off the radio, and about twenty five heads turned towards Mickey, including Ian, who had paused by the front door. _Shit, no going back now._ ‘I just want everybody to know, I’m fuckin’ gay.’ At their blank looks, Mickey continued. ‘A big ol’ ‘mo. Just thought you should know that.’ He glared towards Ian and raised his eyebrows. ‘You happy now?’

Ian shut the door and waited for someone to react to Mickey’s news. Mandy had paled considerably and was looking around the room at everyone because, _fuck_ , Mickey had just come out. It didn’t matter though, because apparently the majority just didn’t give a shit.

Just as someone turned the radio back on, Terry gave a huge roar and surged up from his place in the armchair. ‘You son of a bitch!’ he bellowed. ‘I’ll fuckin’ kill you!’

 _Here we go_. Mickey threw his fist out, hitting Terry in the jaw, and throwing him off balance. Terry recovered quickly, and slammed Mickey backwards into a wall, leaving him with nowhere to go, except forwards and into his father’s space. Mickey kneed Terry in the crotch and heard a satisfying crunch as he pulled his father’s head onto his leg, his nose breaking upon impact. Mickey shattered a bottle over his father’s head, but it seemed like that only fuelled his rage.

Someone, probably one of Terry’s brothers, decided that Mickey was doing more damage against Terry than he should be able to, so they joined the fight in an attempt to even out the battle ranks.

Ian, of course, came to his boyfriend’s defense moments later, and hauled Terry off him, headbutting him and pushing him into the people sitting on the couch.

Someone broke a chair across Ian’s back at one point, and the legs were used as makeshift batons to hit other people with, so more and more people got in on the fighting, most just going at each other, rather than Mickey or Ian or Terry.

Finally, as the cops showed up, people broke apart and some even jumped out windows to get away and avoid being arrested, which just left a few people milling around and watching as Terry was hauled off to prison by the cops again. Once the situation had been explained, Ian and Mickey were given warnings, and told they were free to go home.

Mickey and Ian were left to take stock of their injuries, mostly just cuts and bruises, as Mandy arranged to borrow someone’s car so she could take them home.

As she did that, Mickey and Ian sat close together on chairs in the kitchen, too pumped up with adrenaline to fully realise how much everything would hurt later on. Matching grins were spread across their faces, because no matter how much pain they would inevitably be in at some point in the near future, it was worth it.

Mickey was free.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm sorry this is like 15 hours late! my laptop COMPLETELY gave up last night, and i was too tired to deal with it. (which turned out to be a good thing bc when i turned it on an hour ago, it decided to scan all my files and then took about half an hour to start working the internet properly again.) 
> 
> anyway, the final chapter will HOPEFULLY (provided my laptop stops being an asshole) be up later today. in like, 9 hours.
> 
> [tumblr~](http://im-not-his-keeper.tumblr.com/)


	21. Celestial Hearts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the final chapter. jesus. chapter title and _fic_ title from 'celestial' by phildel.

‘I hope you feel better now, Mickey,’ Mandy said as she drove them home. ‘You totally ruined Colin’s party. Though I think he might feel strangely honoured that you came out at his party, y’know?’

‘Yeah,’ Mickey said quietly, looking down to where his fingers were twisted with Ian’s. ‘Okay.’

‘Did you just hear what I said?’

‘Me neither.’

Mandy rolled her eyes and stopped trying to make conversation. She turned her eyes to the road, and paid no attention to whatever Mickey and Ian were doing in the backseat. It looked like they were having an intense staring competition, but Mandy would hazard a guess that they were probably having a telepathic conversation or something. They barely noticed when she pulled up outside their building and cleared her throat loudly. ‘So, you’re home.’

Mickey reluctantly looked away from Ian and gave his sister a warm smile. ‘Thanks, Mands. For everything.’

‘It’s okay,’ she replied. ‘Go clean yourselves up, okay? You look like you’ve just murdered someone.’

Ian laughed, and winced. ‘Ah, fuck.’

‘Yeah, better put some ice on your ribs,’ Mandy noted. ‘Uncle Ronnie really used you as a punching bag.’

‘No kidding,’ Ian frowned, touching his ribs gently. ‘Fuck that. Had worse, though.’

‘Hah. Now get the hell outta this car, I said we would only be gone ten minutes,’ Mandy said, making a shooing motion with her hand. ‘See you guys later.’

‘Bye, Mandy,’ they chorused, climbing from the car, and into their building.

They got a few strange looks as they made their way to the apartment, and once they were inside, they went directly to the bathroom. They helped each other out of the majority of their clothing, and discarded their shirts on the floor, to be _thoroughly_ washed later.

Ian pushed Mickey down to sit on the lid of the toilet, and got out an assortment of items to clean his wounds with. He filled the small sink with warm water, and used a cloth to start dabbing away at the worst of the dried blood on Mickey’s face.

‘Fuck, you wanna be a bit gentler?’ Mickey asked, wincing as Ian’s hand slipped and he swiped harshly at Mickey’s tender face.

‘Sorry, babe,’ Ian murmured, giving Mickey a small smile. ‘So you really came out, huh?’

Mickey rolled his eyes. ‘Yeah, doesn’t mean I’m gonna wear a fuckin’ dress or anything.’

‘Nobody fuckin’ asked you to,’ Ian said, as he rinsed off the cloth and watched the blood mix into the water, turning it pink, before continuing with, ‘though you do have really nice legs.’

Mickey grinned. ‘You’re a fuckin’ dick.’

Ian grinned back. ‘That’s the only reason why you love me.’

‘Yeah, yeah, gingerbread,’ Mickey said, gasping as Ian wiped some antiseptic carefully across the cuts on Mickey’s face. ‘Jesus.’

‘Oh sorry, does that sting?’

‘Uh, yeah.’

‘Good, that means it’s working,’ Ian said happily. ‘Hands.’

‘Hands what?’

‘Give me your hands, idiot.’

‘You can’t call me an idiot, I love you,’ Mickey smiled.

‘And I love _you_ , so I can call you whatever I like,’ Ian replied. He took one of Mickey’s proffered hands and cleaned the blood off them, before wiping them with antiseptic, too. ‘How’re your ribs and stuff?’

‘Feel like shit, but they’re probably better than yours,’ Mickey said, exchanging places with Ian on the toilet. ‘You should really put ice on those later.’

‘I will be,’ Ian agreed. ‘Okay, do your worst.’

‘Did you just give me a pep talk for cleaning your wounds?’ Mickey asked incredulously.

Ian shrugged. ‘Ouch. But yeah, I did. More for myself actually, but whatever.’

Mickey laughed. ‘You’ve got scars all over your damn body from bullet grazes, and you’re scared of antiseptic?’

‘That shit stings, Mick.’

‘I know, I just had it on my face,’ Mickey said, getting a new cloth and filling the sink with clean water. He knelt in front of Ian and started removing the blood from his skin. ‘This is weird, man.’

‘Hmm?’

‘We’re so...’ Mickey trailed off.

‘Domestic?’ Ian suggested.

‘Yeah.’

‘We should get a dog.’

‘I’ve always wanted a dog...’ Mickey mused.

‘Seriously?’ Ian asked. ‘I was joking, but I would totally be down for getting a dog.’

‘You want to?’

‘Do you?’

‘Hell yeah, I do,’ Mickey said enthusiastically.

‘Okay, let’s get a dog, then,’ Ian said. ‘Tomorrow.’

Mickey grinned and hummed as he continued to methodically wipe the crusts away. He stood up once he was satisfied with the result. ‘You got blood all through your hair, man.’

‘So do you,’ Ian replied, standing with him and turning the shower on. ‘You wanna help me out?’

Mickey nodded. ‘Then we gotta get some ice on your ribs, okay?’

‘Yeah, okay.’

 

* * *

 

‘Come on! Come on! Aw, look at you! Good boy!’

‘Don’t talk to him like that, Gallagher. It’s a dog, not a fucking baby or some shit.’

Ian shot his boyfriend an offended glance before turning back to the little puppy who was trotting around him as he sat on the floor of their living room. ‘Aw, does Daddy not like the baby talk?’ Ian asked the dog. ‘Daddy is an idiot, isn’t he?’

‘Don’t tell him I’m an idiot,’ Mickey grumbled sitting beside Ian. ‘What did we decide to call him?’

‘I want to call him Archie,’ Ian said, stroking the tiny German Shepherd’s back. ‘Doesn’t he seem like an Archie to you?’

‘Archie is a shitty name. We’re calling him Axe. It’s manlier.’

‘We are _not_ calling our baby Axe, Mick,’ Ian sighed. ‘What about Bones?’

‘No. Frank?’

‘My dad’s name is Frank.’

‘So that’s definitely a no,’ Mickey watched the puppy bounce around and come to a stop on Ian’s lap, wagging his tail and looking up at him happily, his tongue hanging from his mouth. ‘Nugget?’

‘Absolutely not,’ Ian said, idly scratching behind the dog’s ears. ‘Strider.’

‘Like from _Lord of the Rings_? No,’ Mickey bit his lip thoughtfully. ‘What about Radar?’

Ian looked up at him. ‘Radar?’

‘Yeah, I mean... He looks like him, don’t ya think?’ Mickey asked, patting the puppy’s head.

‘I forgot all about Radar,’ Ian murmured. ‘But I agree. Radar, then?’

Mickey nodded. ‘Radar.’

 

* * *

 

‘Don’t forget Radar’s leash!’ Ian called, shoving his feet into his boots. ‘Don’t want him walking off somewhere again.’

‘He always comes back,’ Mickey replied, the dog trotting along behind him as he came into the bedroom to get his own shoes. ‘Don’t you, Radar? Yeah, because you’re awesome, huh?’

Radar gave a bark of agreement and sat at Mickey’s feet.

‘What happened to no baby talk?’ Ian asked lightly.

‘He’s only six months old, he’s still a baby, and he likes it,’ Mickey said. ‘So fuck off.’

Ian laughed. ‘Okay, sure. Come on, Ray, let’s leave Daddy and go find your leash.’ When the dog just tilted his head and blinked at him, Ian rolled his eyes. ‘Walkies?’

Radar barked again and jumped up onto the bed, wagging his tail and shoving his face into Mickey’s, like he was trying to get him excited, too.

‘Yeah, yeah. I’m coming,’ Mickey said, blowing gently at Radar. ‘You wanna go to Fiona’s? Huh? Wanna go see Debs, and Carl, and Mandy, and Lip? Yeah, we wanna go see Lip so we can bite his ass, don’t we? Yes we do!’

‘And you think I’m bad?’ Ian asked Mickey, as he walked into the living room, closely followed by Radar. ‘Also, did you just encourage our baby to attack my brother?’

Mickey grinned at him. ‘Of course, I didn’t. Give me the leash, and we can go, okay?’

Ian rolled his eyes, and clipped Radar onto his leash, before he passed it over to Mickey and grabbed the keys from the bowl by the door. As they left the building, Ian turned to Mickey and said, ‘So what do you think Mandy’s big announcement is?’

‘Probably knocked up,’ Mickey shrugged. ‘I wouldn’t be surprised.’

‘That would be really nice, Mick. Don’t say it like it would be a bad thing. Lip and Mandy are happy, and I know that they would both be okay with having a baby.’

‘What makes you say that?’ Mickey asked, gently nudging Radar’s butt to get him away from sniffing an apparently very interesting patch of grass.

‘Mandy is my best friend. She tells me everything,’ Ian said, like it was the most obvious explanation.

‘Everything? So you know what the announcement is?’

‘I wish. She’s been acting very suspicious lately,’ Ian paused. ‘Fuck, maybe she is pregnant? I don’t know, man. This is why I’m gay. Girls are way too confusing.’

Mickey nodded seriously. ‘I get you.’

They walked the rest of the way to the Gallagher house, making idle chit chat and bumping shoulders, until they rounded the corner of the street, and Mickey passed Radar’s leash to Ian so he and the dog could run the rest of the way.

‘Radar, sit,’ Ian commanded. The dog sat, and Ian smiled, patting his head and removing the leash. ‘Ready... Set... Go!’ Ian said, taking off towards the house, Radar hot on his heels.

Mickey laughed to himself, thinking what a complete dork his boyfriend was, and admiring the view as Ian ran off into the distance.

When he got inside, he found Radar lying by the dining room table under Ian’s chair, with the redhead holding two bottles of beer. Mickey took the drink Ian held out to him, and kissed him lightly. ‘Radar win?’ he asked.

Ian nodded. ‘We should’ve got something with shorter legs, Mick.’

‘Nah, you’d hate a little dog.’

‘Not true! I love all dogs. Little ones are just... more easily misplaced.’

‘Meaning you’d stand on it with your fucking enormous feet?’

‘Without a doubt,’ Ian agreed.

‘Where is everyone?’ Mickey asked, noting the kitchen’s complete absence of the usual gaggle of Gallaghers.

‘Outside. Lip fired up the barbeque about ten minutes before me and Radar arrived. I told them I would wait for you in here.’

‘So we should go outside?’

‘Probably,’ Ian nodded and stood up. ‘Come on, Radar.’

The three of them left through the back door, and went down to join the rest of the Gallaghers, Mandy included, where there were chairs and a couple of tables with food set up. ‘Mickey is finally here,’ Ian announced.

‘Thank you for honouring us with your presence!’ Lip said, waving a spatula at Mickey in greeting. ‘Food is nearly done, so you can probably start fillings your plates or whatever.’

‘There better be potato salad,’ Mickey muttered.

‘Get me a plate of stuff, babe?’ Ian asked, smiling hopefully at Mickey.

‘Yeah, sure,’ Mickey said, rolling his eyes, but coming back a few minutes later with food for Ian anyway. ‘So, what’s this news?’ he asked Mandy, who had sat down beside him.

Mandy looked to Lip for permission to spill the beans, and he nodded. Mandy grinned, putting her food down on her chair, and smoothing down her dress. ‘So, Lip and I have been together for a while now, and, well. We’re engaged!’

Fiona and Debbie immediately started screaming and ran to hug her and Lip. Ian and Mickey exchanged a look, because they hadn’t actually considered that. ‘You knocked up?’ Mickey asked.

Mandy shook her head. ‘Nope! Just in love.’

Ian grinned and moved to hug his new sister-in-law. ‘That’s great, Mands. Congratulations.’

‘Hey, Lip?’ Mickey smiled, not bothering to move from his chair. ‘Hurt my sister and I’ll get Radar to eat your dick off.’

Lip nodded. ‘Understood.’

‘Does this mean I’ll have to get a suit?’ Carl asked to no one in particular.

‘Yup,’ Fiona smiled, wiping away tears. ‘You have to get a suit.’

Carl frowned. ‘Damn.’

‘I feel you, kid,’ Mickey nodded sympathetically. ‘Suits aren’t fun.’

‘Well, buck up, kiddo,’ Mandy said, sitting back down next to Mickey after having successfully extracted herself from the Gallaghers’ arms. ‘You’re walking me down the aisle.’

Mickey blinked. ‘What?’

‘You’re giving me away, numbnuts,’ Mandy said, punching him fondly on the arm. ‘Wouldn’t want dad to anyway, and the other brothers are out of commission. You’re kind of a last resort, actually.’

Mickey had apparently stopped listening after the words _“You’re giving me away”_. ‘You want me to walk you down the aisle?’

Mandy put her joking aside and nodded. ‘Of course I do.’

‘Are you sure? I’ll probably fuck it up.’

‘I wouldn’t have it any other way.’

Mickey bit his lip and blinked rapidly to try and clear his eyes. ‘You don’t want Ian to or something?’

Mandy shook her head. ‘I love Ian, but you’re my brother, Mickey. So, will you do it?’

Mickey nodded. ‘I will. It would be an honour to walk you down.’

Mandy smiled and pulled her brother into a fierce hug. ‘Love you, Mick.’

‘You too, Mands.’

 

* * *

 

Saturday mornings were Mickey’s favourite part of the week.

He and Ian would always wake up early, and the sun would stream in through their thin, mostly useless, curtains and illuminate the small room. The sheets were always perfectly comfortable, and Radar seemed to get that Saturday mornings were sacred, because he was never on their bed, although he slept there every night and was there every other morning.

They would never talk much. They would just look at each other, lightly touching the other’s skin, like they couldn’t believe they had gotten this far, and had someone to wake up to every morning.

And it really was kind of unbelievable what they had done to get to this point.

From the army, and going through wars, to sharing secrets under rain soaked trees in the middle of nowhere. Losing track of each other for months, then somehow finding themselves back together again. Moving in together, falling in love, and then a break up. Mickey had even come out to his entire family, and that in itself was something he would’ve thought completely impossible a year earlier. He felt free, and it was all because Ian had never given up hope on him.

_Ian._

Mickey had once wondered whether his freckles could be connected into a mass of constellations, but now, Mickey knew the truth.

Ian was not just a series of constellations. Ian was a _galaxy_ , full of nebulas, colliding stars, and black holes – and Mickey had been drawn into the vacuum of Ian’s life, never able to escape, and that was something he would forever be thankful for.

The constellations on Ian’s skin were something Mickey would gladly spend the rest of his days looking at, because they were incredible. Beautiful. Just like the man they graced.

Mickey wanted the world to know Ian was his. Wanted to scream it from rooftops, write it in the sky, or emblazon it across his chest. But, despite everything they had faced, Mickey was still scared. What if one day Ian realised he could do better than Mickey? What if Ian stopped loving him? What then? But here, looking at Ian, and the undisguised, childlike wonder on his face, Mickey realised that would never happen.

Ian would love Mickey for eternity, and longer if he could find a way – and Mickey would always return it tenfold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> quick note: if you're reading firebird, this is where i got the idea of radar from. i was not done with writing him. at all. i also now have the crazy urge to buy myself a german shepherd and call it radar. 
> 
> and now for the obligatory thank you speech.
> 
> to everyone who encouraged me to write this from the VERY beginning (aka [amanda](http://teamwinchesterbros.tumblr.com/)) and to the people who joined my ship of crazy later on (aka [teresa](http://lggymilkovich.tumblr.com/) and [emma](http://mickeyslegs.tumblr.com/)) and to everyone who has read, commented, bookmarked or given kudos to this fic: thank you. all the support and enthusiasm has been pretty awesome c:
> 
> bonus fun time thing i forgot to publish when i finished the fic: [the 8tracks playlist](http://8tracks.com/sherlockedee/rosary/)
> 
> [come see me on tumblr!](http://im-not-his-keeper.tumblr.com/)


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